The Chapel
by BackwardsMuffin
Summary: Follow up to Number 2. Sometimes you have to let go of your fears and just...jump.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is the follow up to Number 2. The second part of this 'verse. A lot of people asked for this, both in reviews and on Tumblr etc. So I hope you find it pleasing. **

**There will probably be one more after this to give closure or I may write one where the opposite of this, happens to Kurt. If people would like to see that.**

**There may be a sprinkling of mild smut it this, nothing graphic, just references.**

**Again, this may ****contain Triggers and strong mentions of suicide. If you suffer from depression related issues, then I advise you not to read this if you are feeling down...or if you feel you may be triggered at all. ****Reader discretion is advised**

**Note that I do not believe this would or should ever happen to Kurt. I am using artistic license. I don't think he is weak or pathetic or anything bad, because this may portray that. But he is so strong in canon. This does him no justice. Also, Blaine...I despise my version of him in this, but love canon Blaine. Sebastian can just gtfo. Nuff said.**

**P.S. If you want music for this, then I recommend Use Somebody and Heartbeats- covered by Scala & Kolacny Brothers.**

* * *

><p>The music is in full swing. Blaine is dancing wildly and can feel dozens of others pressing in on him as the dance floor fills. Sebastian grinds against his back and Blaine lets out a small moan.<p>

This is the life.

A gorgeous boyfriend.

Amazing friends.

Good health.

What more could a guy ask for?

This isn't normally his scene but tonight it is just incredible.

Blaine turns around to face his boyfriend, locking his arms around Sebastian's neck and leaning in to kiss him; long and slow and passionate; before suggesting they head somewhere a little more...private.

* * *

><p>Kurt ejects the disk containing his suicide 'video note' and pulls out a sharpie from his desk draw; carefully inscribing Blaine's name on the front before slipping it into a plastic wallet.<p>

Blaine and Sebastian left for Scandals around an hour and a half ago. Based on their usual date times, they shouldn't be back for another couple of hours, and even if they were, they would most certainly be in Sebastian's room; the one with the larger bed.

Kurt shudders.

* * *

><p>Blaine's head drops back against the cold tiles on the bathroom wall as a low moan escapes his lips. Sebastian is on his knees before him, in one of the larger stalls, his mouth working rigorously on the younger boy.<p>

Now normally Blaine wouldn't dare do anything this 'cheap', especially not in a place like this; but when one had a hot guy attached to one's body, one didn't tend to think about location.

* * *

><p>Kurt slips on a pair of thick socks, to quieten his steps. He slides the disk into the pocket of his pants and quickly creeps over to his dorm room door; pulling it open with a creak before sneaking out.<p>

He checks around every corner and continues on his way; careful to avoid any passing boys, in case he aroused suspicion.

He doesn't want to raise any questions. He just wants to get things over with as soon as possible.

* * *

><p>Wow, that was certainly something to cross off the bucket list; which, since Sebastian had entered his life, had become much more sexual than Blaine had even considered possible.<p>

But hey, he was a teenage boy. He has urges and hormones and stuff. You can hardly blame him for doing what he just did. It feels good, and that's what teenage life is about. Feeling good.

Everyone should have the chance to feel good.

* * *

><p>Kurt feels absolutely terrible. The slow pace he is walking at and the solemn way each step seems to echo down the hall make it seem like he is heading to the gallows, or to a hangman's rope, rather than to a friend's dormitory.<p>

He can feel the disk knock against his side with every swing of his leg; taunting and teasing him as if it knows what is about to happen.

In a way, Kurt supposes, it does.

* * *

><p>Blaine is back on the dance floor now; surrounded by people, all dancing and cheering and having a fantastic time.<p>

He smiles as Sebastian send him a flirty look, shimmying back over to him, between the rambunctious males.

'Hey Blaine.' He half shouts above the loud bass of the music. 'I think we should head back!'

Blaine immediately pulls a face. 'What...Why?'

'There's nothing wrong.' Sebastian reassures. '_I'm _having a great time. I just think _we_ could have an even better one back in the dorms...in my room... in my bed.'

A grin splits across Blaine's face as he begins to nod frantically. Sebastian chuckles low, and reaches out to grab his hand, before pulling him through the throngs of dancers and towards the door.

They smile and shoot each other sly glances, happy that they have each other right now, that they are together.

* * *

><p>Kurt is alone. Completely alone.<p>

The corridors are deserted and the entire building is silent, except for the gentle hiss of the boiler a few doors down. He wishes he could choose to be lonely; because solitude is much more comforting when you want it. Not when it is thrust upon you.

He approaches his friend's dorm and quickly checks around, almost hoping for a sign of life, before trying the handle.

Unsurprisingly, it isn't locked. So Kurt quickly presses the door open and slips into the darkened room.

* * *

><p>Blaine swings his and Sebastian's joined arms wildly as they head out of the club and over to Seb's car. It's getting quite late now. The sun is nearly set and the sky is a deep crimson red with barely a cloud in sight.<p>

It's beautiful, Blaine thinks, although that might just be the alcohol talking.

* * *

><p>Kurt glances around the room; taking in all the minute details for the final time.<p>

The posters on the wall, spelling out influential quotes, or displaying grinning sports men. The film memorabilia and the tiny little wind up robots that lurk on a bookshelf. There are a few photos littered around the place too. A few more than when Kurt was last in here.

He crosses the dark carpeted floor and heads over to Blaine's dresser. Where most of his pictures are laid out.

There are framed snapshots of the warblers; all standing in a group after a competition. There is another during rehearsal, of Blaine and Nick mid leap.

Just to the side there are some shots of Blaine's parents and his older brother and across from that is a small picture of a toddler Blaine with who Kurt presumes are his grandparents.

In pride of place though, there is a huge framed shot of Sebastian and Blaine, arms slung around each other's waists and grinning cheesily for the camera.

Kurt winces.

There are a few more of Blaine and friends, and Kurt smiles at each one, trying to memorise the expressions of glee and the emotions around them that were so beautifully captured within these frames.

There is one thing Kurt finds strange though.

He cannot find the picture of Blaine and himself; the one that used to sit where the image of Blaine and Sebastian now lurks.

It was taken at the Lima bean a couple of months back. Mercedes had snapped the shot and emailed it to the pair almost instantly as it was just '_too cute'_, and Blaine had of course immediately framed it. Laughing with Kurt and telling him how _'adorable you look, seriously. This photo makes you look like a little bunny I just want to cuddle'_

Kurt had blushed and turned his head, smiling at the compliment but still embarrassed.

He did indeed look like a rabbit. He had coffee foam on the tip of his nose and Blaine was making those silly ears behind his head as Kurt pulled a completely ridiculous pose for the camera.

Back then, Kurt had believed those flirtatious actions had meant as much to Blaine as they had to him. That maybe Blaine calling him adorable was a chat-up line or come on...that hadn't been the case.

But it was still an amazing day, he had been so happy.

* * *

><p>Just as he is about to turn and place the disk on Blaine's bed, Kurt spots the photo in question.<p>

It is sat right at the back of Blaine's dresser. Hidden by books and papers; a striped Dalton tie covering half of it, so one can only see Blaine and the side of Kurt's hair.

There is a thin coating of dust covering the glass and Kurt winces at the knowledge that this shot has been left untouched for quite some time.

Kurt reaches out and picks up the photo, dropping the tie on the floor with little regard.

He holds the photo to the light, taking in as much detail as he can.

Why had Blaine abandoned it?

They looked so happy.

* * *

><p>Blaine is in the car, speeding down the country roads with Sebastian driving, on their way back to Dalton.<p>

He has a delayed curfew and doesn't actually have to return to school tonight, but Sebastian's dorm is much nicer than any hotel they could get, and it's quite far away from the other rooms, thanks to his persuasive father. It also contains Seb's '_supplies.'_

Blaine reaches out to caress Seb's hand as it perches on the gear stick.

His boyfriend briefly glances over to him and smiles.

Blaine gives a rather tipsy giggle.

How is this his life?

He is just so happy.

* * *

><p>Kurt by this point, has slipped the photo out of the frame and has tucked it into his pocket.<p>

He likes that photo; he wants to keep it with him.

He is obsessing far too much over this guy, but right now, with less than an hour left, is there really any point stopping?

* * *

><p>Kurt checks his watch; he has around an hour or so until Blaine and Sebastian would normally get back, but for all he knows they could have left early. He doesn't want to risk being caught.<p>

He leaves the frame on Blaine's dresser and quickly trots over to the bed, pulling out the disk from his pocket and laying it lovingly on Blaine's pillow.

He smoothes down the creases on the surrounding fabric, and presses a kiss to his finger, which he then touches lightly to the disk.

This is his goodbye.

* * *

><p>Kurt walks the corridors of Dalton, making his way to the sports locker room. Because he knows that despite the extensive security everywhere else, they always leave the windows there unlocked and open. Something about the horrific smell otherwise, and right now Kurt has never been more thankful for it.<p>

He is heading outside; and across to the school chapel.

He's never been particularly religious, and he's not going there to pray.

He's going there because it is very tall, and is the only building in the school, where one can actually access the roof.

* * *

><p>He was dramatic. Yes.<p>

He wanted his passing to be dramatic too.

So sue him.

He wanted it this way. He had had no say in almost everything else, shouldn't he be allowed to at least choose his death?

* * *

><p>This was also pretty guaranteed to work.<p>

There was always a danger with wrist slitting or hanging, that something wouldn't work, or that you'd be found before you could actually go through with it.

Sometimes you had to just let go of your fears and...jump.

He deserved the pain he was about to receive. He deserved it. Taking pills and alcohol was easy and painless, but this was the way for him. Maybe the pain of jumping would balance out with the pain he would have received in later life?

It would hurt like hell when he hit the ground, Kurt knew it. But then it would be over. Then it would stop. He needed to feel the force as his body struck the earth. Taking pills was easy. This method actually required courage.

And Blaine had always preached courage.

* * *

><p>Blaine's thoughts drifted around as he lazed around in Seb's car.<p>

He felt like texting...

Maybe Nick, or Jeff, or Wes, perhaps David, or Thad, or Trent, or...

Or Kurt.

He hadn't spoken to Kurt in aaages.

Yeah...he should text Kurt.

Kurrrt...Kurtie Kurt Kurters...

Wait...no...that wouldn't work.

Cos it was late and all...so Kurt would be asleep.

He was going to sleep real early recently.

And Blaine didn't want to disturb him.

He'd talk to Kurt in the morning.

Yeah...the morning...that was nice...Blaine liked mornings...mornings were haaappy...

* * *

><p>Kurt felt the wind rustle his hair as he gazed over the edge of the chapel building. The ground was a hell of a long way down, Kurt could only just make out the seam between the stone path and the grass below as the moonlight shone down upon him.<p>

It was cold tonight. Not bitterly so, but enough to send chills shooting down Kurt's spine.

He could see the stars shining above him. Glinting and twinkling, like tiny fairy lights spattered across the sky.

They looked so cheerful up there, dancing above the heavens. Kurt spins on the spot, eyes fixed on the sky above him. Maybe he'll end up there...amongst the stars. He always wanted to be one on earth...maybe now his course has changed...he can shine in a different way.

* * *

><p>If he was a star he could watch over everyone. He could make sure others got the happiness he never did. He could stop all the hurt and the pain; the suffering and the agony. He would never let someone go through what he had, not if he could help it.<p>

* * *

><p>He would watch his dad, and keep him in good health...and help him forget. He didn't want to hurt his father...he really, really didn't. He loved that man so much; he was always there for Kurt. Well, up until recently at least. But he had Finn and Carole now. Kurt would help him forget about the disappointing son he was, and help Burt to love Finn just as much, if not more than he had loved him. Finn deserved a father like him, and Burt deserved a son like Finn; and Carole would just complete their happy family. Kurt would make sure they were never sad. He loved them too much to let them grieve for long.<p>

He would watch the New Directions. Watch as their family evolved. As people make up and break up and fall in love. And he would watch the Warblers too. Watch as they choreographed new routines and made their team even stronger. He would watch as they wowed audiences with their synchronised steps and amazing voices. He would make them happy, all of his previous friends. He would grant them all their Number 2s. He would make them so very, very happy.

But mostly...he would watch Blaine. Because try as he might he just couldn't get this damn boy out of his head. Blaine invaded every though he had, every dream he dreamed, every breath he took. And it was so stupid. Kurt knew it was; because you shouldn't feel like that about someone. Not at this age. But he did...and those feelings wouldn't go away...they weren't even returned. Blaine was happily together with someone who was definitely not him.

But Kurt was ok with that.

As much as he wished it was he who got to have Blaine, he was ok with Blaine having someone else. He wanted him to. Blaine deserved to have someone to love him and have someone for him to love . He truly did. If Kurt couldn't give him that love, then it was only right that someone else did. And Kurt was overjoyed that someone would. He may love Blaine, but as every cliché Romance novel says. _'When you love someone, you've got to let them go.' _And that was what he was doing.

Letting Blaine go.

Letting him love someone else, and not causing a fuss. Letting Blaine be himself, and supporting him. Letting Blaine live his own life.

Removing Kurt from the equation, so he would never have to worry about his friend again.

Blaine could just get on with life and be happy, like he deserved to be. It may hurt him a little at the start, but Sebastian would help him through it. They had each other.

Kurt had no one. But at least Blaine did.

And even if Blaine and Sebastian didn't work out, there was no doubt that he would never be alone. He had everything a guy could dream of; looks personality, wit, humour, he was amazing!

If he and Seb did break up, there would be hundreds of guys just begging to date the curly haired teen. He was too perfect. Kurt didn't deserve that kind of perfection in his life, but Blaine should have his life be utter perfection.

* * *

><p>Kurt steps up onto the ledge of the building, and wraps his arms around the horizontal part of the cross that perched besides him.<p>

It was built of cold concrete, and about the same height as him. Small patches of lichens had sprouted up along its surfaces but it still retained a superior stature.

It provided good support as he surveyed this earth for the final time.

* * *

><p>Blaine sits giggling in the front seat of Sebastian's car as the pair head back up the Dalton drive.<p>

They are listening to some obnoxious song on the tacky late night radio, but Blaine is too tipsy to care about the quality of the music. He's just focused on getting back to his bed...or preferably Sebastian's if things go well.

Blaine smiles as he gazes out the window, tapping his fingers to the beat of the bass. His eyes catch sight of the large Dalton chapel. The humongous cross above the roof illuminated in the moon light.

The chorus of the tune starts up, when Blaine notices what seems like a figure, standing alongside the cross.

'Hey...' he slurs, waving his hand in front of Sebastian, keeping his eyes fixed on the figure. '-Hey Seb'

'What is it Blaine?' Sebastian questions, not looking at his boyfriend. 'I'm trying to drive your drunken ass home.' They are nearing the car park now, and Sebastian is trying to focus on getting inside as quickly as he can.

'I think...I think I see Jesus.' Blaine says, squinting as the figure extends a hand over the edge of the chapel roof.

'Blaine.' Sebastian sighs. 'I doubt very much that you can see Jesus. It's probably a hallucination; I think the alcohol is getting to you.' _Just like I will be getting you in a minute if you just shut up._

'No.' Blaine says, rapping his fingers on the window, as if this will mysteriously attract the figures attention. 'I see him...on the chapel... I'm not halu- hal- halus- Seeing things. He's there. I see him.'

'Ok babe. You see him.' Sebastian says, as they turn a corner and lose sight of the chapel. 'But no more Jesus talk for now ok, not unless you're screaming it in ecstasy'

Blaine flushes and giggles even more. 'You think you're so impressive Bas.' He chuckles.

'Not hearing any complaints from you.'

'And you never will.'

The figure is forgotten in seconds.

* * *

><p>Kurt steps back, mentally preparing him for the jump.<p>

He tries to picture happy moments in his life. The happiest thing he can possibly think of.

He wants to fall and wake up to a world where all of his dreams would have come true, where these happy thoughts would have a hope of happening.

He lets his mind run blank, and then allows the steady flow of images to enter.

...

Kurt imagines a life where he and Blaine had a chance.

* * *

><p>He sees coffee dates and flirty duets. Just as they once were, by suddenly so much more. There are secret glances and sly smiles as they watch the other. Constant hand holding and hugs mean so much more, and they can kiss too.<p>

And how they kiss.

Blaine's lips will be slightly chapped, but still oh so soft and warm. They would press against Kurt's with such passion that the whole world could see their love, by seeing a single locking of lips.

He would kiss Kurt one day. They would be alone, together, and Blaine would give some sappy declaration of emotions and Kurt would sit awe struck as someone finally returned his feelings. And then Blaine would smile up at Kurt and lean slowly in and-

Kurt sighed.

And then they would become a couple; Boyfriend and Boyfriend. And they would walk around Dalton hand in hand; never shy of showing off their love, because no one could touch them, or what they had.

They would go on dates. Go see movies and go to restaurants together. And of course, get coffee, in the place that has quickly become _their_ coffee shop as they frequent it so much. The baristas would know their names and would greet them cheerfully every time they entered. And he and Blaine would sit opposite each other on _their _table; in amicable silence, simply relishing the others presence.

They would get to sing a proper duet one day too, in front of everyone, maybe even at a competition. Blaine would probably pick something incredibly inappropriate but Kurt would find it endearing none the less, and they would spend the entire song sending each other small smiles and praying for the performance to end so they could finally kiss.

And one day they would go to prom together. And Kurt would watch as his boyfriend was crowned prom King, and he would grin like a toddler with candy as they slow danced together. Holding each other so very, very close. Kurt knowing that everyone else in the room was so very envious of him; because he had Blaine, and Blaine only wanted to dance with him.

And his friends would love them both. And be so proud of them. Because they were so perfect together, they overcame the obstacles and made it through... together... And they were so, so happy.

He reaches his arms out to either side. So his body is reflecting the crucifix beside him. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, picturing himself and Blaine sitting across from each other in _their _coffee shop, letting an array of images flood his mind.

There is one final clip of his heel as he steps towards the edge.

_They are just talking; discussing events in each other's live. The conversation passes between the pair with practised ease. They are so comfortable with each other...so at peace. And Kurt is on a roll, explaining in detail the latest drama occurring in his fabulous life... when Blaine gazes up at him with love filled eyes and-_

Kurt extends his other leg out just over the ledge and-

Thwip.

_-Blaine speaks._

Kurt falls.

Air hurtles past him. His clothes billow in the wind as his eye squeeze reflexively. The wind is deafening and his pulse is pounding in his ears.

_-I love you._

The ground hurtles towards him and Kurt releases his last breath.

_'I love you too.'_

Smack.

...

...

Silence.

* * *

><p>There is no one left to see the slip of shining paper, gently float down from the sky. It spins and twirls; dancing in the moonlight as it makes its way to earth.<p>

With a final and very tiny _clip_ it touches down on the cold surface at the base of the chapel...next to a crumpled body.

It's a photograph.

On one side of the shot there is a tall brunette, resembling a bunny, and on the other, is his chirpy best friend.

They are smiling...

happy...

together...

Anyone who saw it would think they were a couple...there was just so much love in their eyes.

...

And that's how it should have been.

...

...

...

And that's how it will never end up.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yeah...so apparently I wrote that. Umm...yes.**

**I don't really know what to say. Only that right now writing is a really great way to get emotions out, and I am very sorry for doing this to Kurt.**

**If you want to review...I would really love it. Otherwise...have a lovely day, and I shall hopefully see you all soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So this is going to probably be all one story. It won't be ludicrously long. Because really...what is there to say. **

**I don't want to drag this out, so there will probably only be around 4 or 5 chapters.**

**If people would like. I will write a one shot alternate ending. Because some may not like the ending of this fic.**

* * *

><p>It's early morning when Sebastian finishes tying his laces; preparing for his morning run.<p>

He didn't drink as much as Blaine last night, so the hangover he is receiving will by no means be as bad as the one Blaine is due for when he wakes up.

Sebastian is perched on the edge of his bed; Blaine tangled up in the sheets behind him, his face tinged pink and numerous purpling marks splattered down his neck.

Sebastian chuckles and leans out to prod one of them, earning a low grumble from Blaine, who shifts in the sheets and turns away.

Sebastian laughs again, and stands up. It's around 6 am; they don't have to get up for another hour, but Seb wants to have time to shower after his run.

He quickly strides over to his door, grabbing an old Abercrombie hoodie from the back of his chair and slinging it over his shoulders before he leaves the room, closing the door with a quiet thud.

* * *

><p>It's cold this morning. Bitterly so. The dew that hangs off the trees and plants sparkles in the early morning sun, and gives the impression of a winter's frost. He can hear the sound of his feet making a gentle thump against the ground as he jogs. His shoes are collecting a sheen of moisture and the bare skin around his ankles is continuously hit with flying water droplets as it splashes up from the grass.<p>

He's taking his normal route; out the main doors, down towards the soccer field, past the pool then up half the drive, round the chapel, and back in through the changing room, where he can grab a shower before heading back upstairs for breakfast. It's not too strenuous, but enough to give him a decent feeling of accomplishment.

His headphones are snug in his ears, pounding out the latest techno track from his IPhone held tightly in his palm. He runs in time to the beat, letting himself get lost in the music, so the ache he feels from his straining muscles isn't quite so strong.

* * *

><p>He has been out for nearly half an hour now. A slow burn in his legs is begining to form and he knows he'll have to stop soon. He is approaching the last leg of his route however, so he's not too worried.<p>

He is coming up to the chapel, having run most of the way up the tarmac drive. He can see the large cross on the edge of the roof, casting a long, daunting shadow out across the lawn.

Sebastian smiles; thinking back to Blaine's drunken comment about seeing Jesus on the roof last night. Sebastian wasn't a religious man, and as far as he was aware, neither was Blaine, so his boyfriend must have been truly hammered to see such a thing.

Sebastian chuckles; because Blaine really was. Hell, he could barely walk straight once they got back to the dorm. He kept mumbling things about texting and the morning, and Seb had no idea what he was going on about...at first it was endearing. Then just plain irritating.

So he had shut Blaine up with kisses, and insured he was too busy to talk for the rest of the night, in the best possible way.

* * *

><p>Sebastian keeps up a steady pace; letting himself drift away in the music. All is going well, he's only got around five minutes left.<p>

He is just about to reach the foot of the chapel when he slips.

* * *

><p>He stumbles and nearly falls flat on his face as gravity gets a hold on him, his hands luckily break his fall and he is left with only a grazed palm instead of a broken nose. He quickly stands up and shakes himself down, checking to make sure no one saw the embarrassing spectacle, before turning to see what he had slipped on.<p>

He can't see anything on the ground. No water or ice. No mud puddles or banana skins. Just cold stone pathway, that winds both behind him and ahead round the corner.

Seb shrugs, and is about to start up again, when he spots something peeping out from under the sole of his shoe.

He pulls his leg up to waist height, thankful for his flexibility, and extracts the object in question from the shoe's base.

He wipes off the mud that is stuck to the item and then realises what it is.

It's a photograph.

* * *

><p>Blaine groans as the sunlight streams into his eyes.<p>

God, his head feels like it has been smashed in with a dozen hammers...how much did he have to drink last night?

He rolls over and feels a pain in his backside...oh god, clearly enough alcohol to do _that._

He ignores the pain in his head for long enough to get up and draw the curtains closed again.

Damn Sebastian and his compulsion to get up early.

The pain in his head is making him feel rather dizzy. So he collapses back on the bed almost immediatly after drawing the curtains back.

He needs a while longer to recover.

* * *

><p>Sebastian examines the picture closely.<p>

There are two figures in it, but the faces are rather hard to make out due to the mud.

He looks around for something to wipe the image with, but see's nothing, so ends up settling for using the sleeve of his polo shirt. He can always get the cleaning staff to wash it later, besides it's not like the thing is that expensive.

He cleans down the picture as best he can before holding it up to the low light of the sun, to get a better look.

Oh, it's a photo of Blaine. How sweet. His boyfriend is smiling cheekily into the camera in that trademark way of his. His hair is slightly ruffled and one of his hands is hidden behind the body of the other figure who is...

He wipes away the last fragment of dirt.

...Hummel?

* * *

><p>Blaine gets up again not two minutes later, suddenly realising that this isn't his room, and he really does need to get back, before the dorm master comes to wake them all up.<p>

He slings his legs out of bed, ignoring his obvious nudity and begins to hunt around the room for his clothes. As much as Seb wishes, Blaine can't walk around school naked all day. Besides he needs to find a decent outfit, and in his room are clothes he didn't wear the night before...which is an obvious improvement. Anyway, it's Saturday, which meant no classes and free reign over their clothing, so he could wear whatever he wanted.

_Kurt's idea of heaven_ Blaine chuckles

Speaking of Kurt, Blaine thinks, wasn't he supposed to do something today; Blaine vaguely remembers thoughts of Kurt on the journey back from Scandals. Was it important?

Blaine doesn't _think_ so...

Hmm...he'll remember later. For now though. He needs to get back to his room and find some painkillers because his hangover is really starting to set it.

* * *

><p>It <em>was <em>Hummel.

One very strange looking Hummel that's for sure. He has coffee foam on his nose and is pulling the most ridiculous face. Blaine's hand is behind his head, pulling the typical teen 'bunny ears' motion. It's almost cute-

-but it's certainly an odd thing to find out here.

Sebastian was pretty sure he's seen that photo in Blaine's room a while back...so how did it get outside the Chapel?

Someone had been in Blaine's room. Who the hell would have been in his room and taken out a photo; especially if they were just going to leave it lying around later?

Sebastian would have some serious words with Blaine later about locking his door more if it turned out people were stealing from him.

He glanced down at the photo. He had half a mind to rip the damn thing in half. It had caused him to fall and injure his precious hands; but it was obviously something of Blaine's.

So he would tell Blaine he found it, emphasise his door locking point...then rip it.

It was just a silly little picture. He had hundreds of others. This one wasn't all that important anyway.

With that in mind, Seb folds the photo and stuffs it in his pocket; before starting on his run again.

* * *

><p>He gets 5 steps before he freezes.<p>

* * *

><p>He is standing at the corner of the chapel. And right by his feet, there runs a small, centimetre wide, river of red. And as much as Sebastian wants to deny it...there is no doubt in his mind that that there...is blood.<p>

Suddenly he doesn't want to continue his run. He doesn't care about the pain in his legs, he wants to turn around and sprint all the way back to the start of his route.

He doesn't want to find out what is around the corner. Be it a dead bird or a dead elephant.

Sebastian doesn't want to know.

* * *

><p>But he didn't know what to do.<p>

He can't leave. What if there was someone hurt past there...if someone had fallen and couldn't cry out for help. He can't just leave them. He's not that heartless.

But he can't do this on his own.

So he gets help, in the only way he can without leaving the scene.

He uses his phone.

* * *

><p>'Hi-hello? Is that-' There has never been a time when his voice has been more lacking in confidence that now. It is practically trembling and at least half an octave higher than normal.<p>

'Dalton School office. Sandra speaking, how may I help you?'

'Err...Hey Sandra...this is Sebastian Smythe. I'm a pupil here and-'

'Oh Hello Mr Smythe. How can I be of assistance?'

'Umm...I'm down at the school chapel at the moment and...and.'

He gulps, and very audibly at that, judging by the way Sandra's voice suddenly becomes concerned.

'What's happen Mr Smythe? Is someone hurt?'

'I-I don't know' Sebastian stutters. 'I-I haven't looked.'

'What do you mean?' Sandra says, her voice the utter picture of confusion.

'I was running. And then I slipped so I stopped, but then when I got up again I saw blood. Just...lots and lots of blood and it wasn't from me.'

Sandra swears under her breath and suddenly taking the early morning school shift doesn't seem like such a good choice.

'Can you see where it's coming from Mr Smythe?' Sandra asks, trying and failing to keep her voice calm.

'No.' Sebastian says, his voice now shaking. 'It's from round the corner. I- I haven't looked. I-I don't like blood. It...makes me sick.'

Sandra takes a deep breath and presses a small red button on the underside of her desk, like one would see in the movies, to call the school security.

'Ok Mr Smythe.' She says as gently as she can. 'I want you to try and stay calm, and look around the corner for me. Can you do that?'

Sebastian murmurs a reply.

'I'm sorry I can't-' Sandra starts.

'Uh-huh.' Sebastian repeats, this time louder.

'Good. Just hold on a second.' She switches line and quickly spills out a location to one of the schools security members, then switches back to Sebastian.

'Ok...so...umm just look around the corner now. Nice and slow.' She coos, trying to be supportive. 'I'm sending down some people, they'll be with you in a minute so it's all going to be ok Mr Smythe.'

'Ok I'll-' He stops.

Suddenly Sebastian gets the feeling that the secretary thinks he's just some frightened little kid.

He may not like blood but he isn't a pussy, all this _nice and slow _buisness is hardly making him feel better...

'Fuck it.'

He sucks in a deep breath and decides to just go for it. He has to look sooner or later, so he's just delaying the inevitable.

* * *

><p>'I-I'm going now.' He announces, trying to hide the stammer in his tone.<p>

He scrunches his eyes shut and release his breath. Taking one large stride so his body emerges round the corner.

He falters a moment before opening his eyes and turning to see the source of the blood.

* * *

><p>Oh Shit. There is so much more of it here.<p>

So much more.

And in the middle of the never ending river of red, there lies a crumpled black heap.

It's not furry, so not an animal...and it's too big to be a bird. Besides, what bird leaves that much blood?

Sebastian tries to get a better look.

It seems so small, lying there on the ground, all mangled. It looks like a pile of laundry. Bloody laundry.

There is quite a strong smell coming from the form. The strong coppery tang of blood fills Sebastian's nostrils and makes his head spin. It's intoxicating, and not in a good way.

If only he could tell what it was; if only there wasn't so much blood.

Sebastian then tip toes a little closer. Then-

Oh God.

Oh...fuck, shit crap fucking fuck... FUCK!

That's a person. That's a fucking person bleeding out on the ground and-

Wait...

No.

No!.

That can't be right

NO!

But Sebastian would recognise that face anywhere.

The upturned nose and elfin ears...the brunette locks...now soaked in blood...Even with his facial features mostly destroyed...Sebastian can still see who the body lying lifeless on the ground belongs to.

'No.' He cries out. 'No!' He stumbles back, his entire body shaking. This wasn't possible. this couldn't be possible. 'NO!

Blaine had been right. Oh god. He had been right. Last night, on the chapel.

Blaine had seen somebody. Oh God, oh God, Oh Fucking GOD!

And he had ignored it...the figure...the one Blaine saw...he had shaken it off like it was nothing...and now this.

A lifeless body, surrounded by blood, smashed to pieces on the ground.

Blaine hadn't seen Jesus...but he had seen someone ... Oh Holy Sweet F-Fucking HELL.

He...He had seen Kurt.

He had seen Kurt Hummel...and now...

Sebastian feels his legs give way...there is no way this can be happening...no...just-

His entire body is trembling, his throat is closing up and it's becoming almost impossible for him to breath. His pulse is skyrocketing and the phone slips from his hand, landing on the ground with a shrill crack. He can't breathe, he can't breathe he-

He stops... His eyes roll to the back of his head...it's just...he can't...he...

He passes out.

Cold.

* * *

><p>'Mr Smythe.' Comes a voice from the phone lying face down on the ground. 'Mr Smythe, is everything ok? Can you hear me Mr Smythe?'<p>

There is no reply. A small '_shit'_ hisses from the speaker before the line goes dead, and the dial tone rings out.

The only noise to break the deathly silence, as two students lie crumpled on the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely feedback. You people are so kind. I hope you like the chapter.**

**Mika's: Any Other World was my soundtrack for this...mainly during Blaine's part.**

* * *

><p>When Sebastian awoke, he expected to find his soft bed beneath him and his boyfriend curled up to his side. He expected warm sheets and nudity.<p>

He didn't expect a cold, sterile nurse's room with people surrounding him on all sides and to be dressed in running gear.

That was until he remembered what had just happened; and let out a strangled scream.

* * *

><p>Blaine was back in his room now; having just finished rummaging through his closet in a desperate search for a decent shirt to wear.<p>

He was standing in front of his floor length mirror, surveying his fresh ensemble and hoping he looked good enough to tempt Sebastian into another round of the previous night.

Not that Seb would say no. God, he just needed to ask and he would be all up and ready to go...which was excellent for Blaine...just not so great for his ass.

Blaine chuckled to himself at the thought, before stepping away from the mirror, pleased with his choices.

He sighed, and went to fetch yesterday's clothes from where he chucked them on the bed.

But something caught his eye on the pillow.

A disk.

* * *

><p>Small and silver and in a clear plastic case, with only his name scrawled across the front (albeit in immaculate handwriting.)<p>

Blaine was confused.

He drew closer to the disk and gently picked it up, eyeing the handwriting closely as he thumbed over the case.

Wasn't...wasn't that Kurt's handwriting? He squinted, and tried to remember the last thing he'd seen Kurt write.

An English assignment... Blaine scowled for a moment, before his eyes widened.

It _was _Kurt's writing.

Hmm...then it was probably the 'Eat Pray Love' DVD he'd asked to borrow a week or so back...there wasn't anything else he could think of at least...how strange through.

The boy must have brought it to his room last night whilst Blaine was with Sebastian. Thank goodness they chose Sebastian's room to 'sleep' in. It would have been extremely humiliating if Kurt caught the pair of them...going at it.

He eyed the disk again. If it was the DVD then it was a rather late. As said, he'd asked to borrow it over a week ago and Kurt was normally so efficient with time keeping, especially in regards with Blaine.

But, Blaine supposed, the other boy had been looking a little sick lately, so he could probably allow one or two slip ups.

Blaine hummed quietly to himself and spun the disk in his palm a couple of times, before moving it from the bed to his desk; placing it just across from his laptop and next to another photo of himself and Sebastian.

He'd watch it later.

* * *

><p>'Breathe Mr Smythe.' The matron says, clutching one of Sebastian's hands between her own dainty palms as she tries to get the teen to stay still. 'Its ok-'<p>

'It's not fucking ok.' He half screams, much to the shock of the rooms other occupants. 'He's fucking –fucking...de-' He starts to choke on the words, which then turns into a cough and his entire throat closes up and he can't breathe- he can't breathe!

'Mr Smythe.' She says again, her voice stronger. 'I need you to try and stay calm. You are currently experiencing severe shock and behaviour like this will only intensify it.'

'I-I' he coughs again, pulling himself up so his is sitting, then he pulls his knees up to his chest and leans his head down on them; taking deep, rapid breaths. 'I' *gasp* 'can't' *gasp* 'Fucking' *gasp* 'think' *gasp*

'Mr Smythe. Please.' The matron pleads. 'Calm down. Or you'll do yourself an injury.'

'There is a-a fucking ...d-_dead _teenager outside and you're t-telling me to _calm down_?' he cries incredulously. 'What the _f-fuck_ is wrong with you people?'

'There is an ambulance there now sir.' The matron says, clinging to Sebastian's hand with all her might as the boy shakes frantically. 'They'll call us any minute with news. Everything will-'

'I need Blaine' Sebastian announces, his face still resting on his knees as he struggles to breathe. 'I – I can't think right. Get me Blaine. NOW'

* * *

><p>Blaine has no sooner put the disk down on his desk when his phone begins to ring. He darts across the room to snatch it up off the bed, where he threw it along with his clothes.<p>

He recognises the ring tone. Do you think I'm sexy? – Sebastian's personalised tone, as set by the other boy as a little joke at his boyfriends expense.

He immediately answers.

'Hey babe.' He coos into the handset. 'Miss me already?

'Mr Anderson? This is Miss Pitts from the health centre' says a voice from the speaker, a voice which is definitely_ not_ his boyfriend.

'Oh shit' he hisses 'I- Sorry miss.' Blaine apologises quickly; his face flushing red with embarrassment. I didn't mean-'

'No time for that.' She replies, ignoring Blaine's comment. 'Mr Smythe is requesting you come to the health centre at once. He gave me permission to call you on his phone as he is currently unavailable to talk.'

Blaine's throat goes dry. 'Health Centre?' he questions, his voice cracking slightly. 'What's wrong? Is Sebastian hurt, what's happening?'

'Mr Anderson.' The matron says slowly. 'I think it would be best for us all to discuss things here.'

* * *

><p>As soon as she hangs up, the main school line starts to ring. She excuses herself from Sebastains side and hurries over to answer it.<p>

It's the school security. The one who stayed at the scene when another member brought Sebastian up to her.

'Miss.' He says, his voice deep and rolling. 'The paramedics have news-'

* * *

><p>10 minutes later and Blaine rushing down to the Health centre in record speed, after taking a very brief shower.<p>

His feet pound against the tiled floors of Dalton and he gets a number of strange looks from students who are just awakening from a peaceful night's sleep, as he hurtles past

* * *

><p>The call finishes and matron can feel tears already forming in her eyes.<p>

'Oh god.' She murmurs. 'Oh god.'

Sebastian looks up from his position on the bed. He is quiet and gazes at her with pleading eyes.

'What did they say?' he asks slowly, and the matron begins to tremble.

'I'm sorry Mr Smythe.' She says. 'It's...it's not good.'

And Sebastian begins to cry.

* * *

><p>Blaine slams to door to the health centre opened with a resonating bang and immediately rushes over to his boyfriend. Who is sat up on a bed across the room, with his legs tucked up close to his body, rocking back and forth as tears streak down his face.<p>

'Sebastian.' Blaine cries, running over and cupping his boyfriend's cheeks in his hands, pressing a brief kiss to his forehead. 'Oh my God, are you ok baby? What's happened?'

Sebastian shakes his head and continues rocking. The weak reply spilling from his lips is muffled by the sobs that wrack his body.

'I can't- Blaine' He says. 'I- You...and he-' I can't-' Yet more tears cascade down his cheeks, and Blaine moves to stand by Seb's side, his hands leaving his cheeks to interweave with Seb's own.

'What happened baby?' he asks, as the matron heads over to the pair. 'What happened?'

'Mr Anderson.' The matron announces with a shaky voice before Sebastian can reply. 'So glad you could make it. We have some-' Blaine spins around to face the matron and gets a shock when he sees that her face is also stained with tears. '-some rather bad news.'

Blaine glances between the two, first to her, then to his boyfriend, then back to her, then back to Seb. They seem to be having a conversation with their eyes and Blaine's heart is beginning to pound.

'W-what's going on?' He stutters; still glancing back and forth. 'W-what happened?'

Sebastian nods to the matron, his eyes scrunching as he buries his head into his chest.

'Tell him.' Seb whispers. And the matron lowers her head in acknowledgement, before bringing her gaze up to meet Blaine's.

'Mr Anderson.' She says slowly. 'I think you may want to take a seat.'

* * *

><p>...<p>

'NO!'

...

* * *

><p>Blaine is hurtling back down the corridor; his feet smacking down on the tiled floor and his heart just about ready to burst from his chest.<p>

'_Do you know Kurt Hummel? He's a junior...'_

It couldn't be true. He didn't believe them. Not Kurt...they were lying... it wasn't true.

'_...Umm...Yeah, I know him, we're friends...why?...'_

The front entrance came into sight. Two large wooden doors, each with a humongous metal handle. Blaine rushed up to them and shook the left handle violently until the door creaked open and Blaine could shoot out of the door.

He ignored the screaming voices as they called out for him to stop.

The school security guard who had taken Sebastian to the health centre was darting up behind him, followed by two of the centre staff; each yelling and trying to get him to slow down.

'_...This morning...Your boyfriend, Mr Smythe was on a run...'_

He heard the loud slam as the door shut behind him, then the ear splitting screech as it was shoved back open; hinges making the most terrible sound.

His footsteps thundered as he launched himself down the main steps and onto the stone pathway that led towards the chapel. He stumbled, nearly falling face first before he managed to get back to his senses and continue.

'_...and as he got to the chapel, he found something...'_

Blaine's heart was smacking against his rib cage, and his muscles were screaming at him to stop and every single bone in his body felt like jelly. But he kept running; ignoring the dizziness and nausea, the sickness in the pit of his stomach and the drums that were echoing in his brain.

He needed to see if it was true. ..It couldn't be...it just couldn't...

'_...something terrible...'_

A few people watched from windows as Blaine shot past; some yelling after him, others cheering him on. But he ignored them.

They didn't know why he was running.

'_...Your friend...Mr Hummel...He was in an accident...'_

Blaine kept running...

Running and running and running; the cold air biting and snapping at his skin, water from the early morning dew splashing up at him as he went.

Everything blurred as he went past. His only focus was on the large cross, rising above the other buildings and casting a huge, elongated shadow over the grass.

He needed to get to The Chapel.

With a sudden turn, down past the changing rooms, said shadow came into sight. He was close.

'_...We...don't quite know what happened...'_

Blaine kept going, the shouts kept coming. Nothing mattered though. They could scream and yell and punish him later.

Right now everything on his mind was Kurt.

Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. KURT!

'_...But it appears he may have fallen...from the roof of The Chapel...deliberately...'_

Blaine skidded to a halt as he rounded the corner.

He stood on a small slope, with a direct view down on the path below the Chapel.

And what he saw made his heart stop beating.

'_...Mr Smythe found him...'_

A crew of people, some in green jackets and others in white forensic suits, were crowded around a spot on the ground, from which flowed a steady stream of dried crimson.

Nothing else was visible, bar a wheeled-stretcher, being slowly manoeuvred to the centre of the group.

'_...He had severe head wounds and his injuries were extreme ...'_

Blaine can see the flashing lights of the emergency services, who are parked on the grass just to the side of the scene. There are voices and radios crackling, as people move around, trying to keep busy, and Blaine is sure he hears the sound of sobbing.

He can't believe it. This isn't happening. There's been some mistake. This isn't Kurt.

It _can't _be Kurt.

'_... He wasn't breathing...'_

Suddenly, everyone in the group steps back and a large black shape makes its presence known. It is long, thin and lying on the stretcher.

It's a sheet...covering a body.

'_...We called the emergency services...'_

A paramedic dressed in a fluorescent yellow jacket is stood at each end of the stretcher. Their expressions aren't visible, but Blaine knows that at least one of them has tears in their eyes.

The slowly begin to wheel the stretcher across to the parked ambulance, ignoring the jolt and shudder that it gives when they cross onto the grass.

Blaine can only watch helplessly from the side.

'_...and they came as soon as they could...'_

As they draw close, another man comes round and opens the doors to the back of the vehicle. The other two lift up the stretcher, and the man comes round and tucks up the wheels and legs.

The gently raise the stretcher higher, and begin to slide it into the ambulance. Almost as soon as it slots into place, the man climbs back in and the doors are closed.

The two others who carried the stretcher step back, and raise a hand to their chest, and hold it to their heart, lowering their heads.

Slowly but surely, everyone else at the scene does the same.

Silence reigns.

'_...but there was nothing they could do...'_

Blaine can feel the entire world fall around him. Everything is silent and all he can here is the rushing of blood as his heart desperately tries to keep his body going.

His pulse is racing and nothing seems to make sense. What's going on? It can't...this isn't right...Kurt. That...the body...it wasn't him...it couldn't be...

It couldn't...

'_...I'm sorry...'_

A large hand clamps down on his shoulder, and Blaine knows the guards have caught up with him. But he doesn't care. How could he possibly care when this has happened?

Blaine feels his body go weak, and his legs buckle, sending him careering to the ground. His entire form collapses.

His knees slam against the hard mud at the top of the slope and his hands land by his sides. He keels over and the weight of the world comes crashing down onto his shoulders.

'No.' He cries, though he knows it's hopeless. 'Not Kurt...'

'_...he didn't make it.'_

* * *

><p>'Please not Kurt.'<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: '8' was amazing. Utterly fantastic and I urge you all to watch it.**

**Not long to go until the end of the fic now. There are a few more chapters than I intended, but it will still be a fairly short fic.**

**Just a quick hello to my dear friend Gremlin though. Because she is reading this, and prompting me whenever I slack. So thank you.**

* * *

><p>The guard's hands reach down and lock around the crumpled boy's waist. He gives no protests as he is hoisted up. He doesn't even cry. He can't summon the energy. He just desperately struggles to keep himself breathing. Everything is suddenly so black and heavy and the air is like tar in his lungs and the entire world feels like it is about to collapse around him.<p>

The entire world _has _collapsed around him.

Because Kurt... is gone.

And this...There was nothing that any person on this planet could say that would sum up what Blaine was feeling right now.

It was like drowning. Nothing made sense, his vision was contorted; shapes twisting and stretching so the whole world span. The colours had faded and all he could see was an ocean of muted grey. There was a thundering in his ears that could have been from a marching band, but was in fact his heart beat pulsing in his chest, the blood pounding insistently. His body was weak and unresponsive. Just trying to breathe was difficult, and he didn't know if he could even do that right now.

Nothing. Made. Sense.

It...He...He just couldn't.

This wasn't real, this _wasn't_ real.

NO.

The world wasn't this cruel. It couldn't be.

Not after...No. This was just ...it wasn't...

No...

* * *

><p>A cold emptiness greeted Blaine as he crossed the threshold to his dormitory. The curtains were closed, the room was dark and there was a dank, musky smell wafting up into his oversensitive nostrils. He stepped inside and heard the door shut behind him.<p>

He was alone.

He didn't even know how he ended up there. He remembered movement, but definitive directions or motions were gone. Did he walk? Was he carried? Did he black out? He didn't know; it was all completely obliterated from his mind. The only thought whirling round his head being one of the boy with ocean eyes.

Kurt

Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, Kurtkurtkurtkurtkurtkurtkurt...KURT!

* * *

><p>The boy who stopped him on the staircase, their meeting completely changing Blaine's life.<p>

The boy who gave him the final burst of courage needed to sing a female song to an entire audience of men.

The boy who knew his coffee order, even though Blaine only bluffed his.

The boy who arranged impromptu coffee meetings whenever Blaine was feeling down, just to see him smile..

The boy who helped him serenade his first crush, when he had no one for himself.

The boy who helped him get over said crush when everything fell apart.

The boy who brought him new friends and new opportunities in the form of New Directions.

The boy who reassured him when said friends made him change his views and question himself.

The boy who helped him plan his first date, and called him to check how it went, even though he still had no one for himself..

The boy who congratulated him on finding love in the lonely state of Ohio.

The boy Blaine _promised_ would someday find the same.

...

He was the boy who helped him no matter what.

The boy who was kind, charismatic and charming. The epitome of perfection.

The boy who had a smile like the sun and eyes like a dream

The boy who Blaine could rely on for anything.

The boy who was always, _always _there for him.

...

But this boy, he was the one who killed himself

...

He was the boy who's mother had died and who's father almost followed, nearly leaving him orphaned and alone.

The boy who was once oppressed and attacked every day, _just_ for being him.

The boy who had been retreating into himself continuously for months now, blocking people out and isolating himself.

The boy who looked sick and sleep deprived almost all the time.

The boy who's beautiful smile was _never _genuine.

The boy who had become so skinny he looked positively skeletal.

The boy who's sudden aversion to short sleeves should have set alarm bells ringing.

The boy who stopped talking, stopped eating... stopped singing.

...

He was the boy who Blaine ignored countless times

The boy he had cancelled on even more.

The boy he had neglected in favour of his new lover.

The boy he left out of conversations, out of meetings, out of groups.

The boy he hadn't even spoken to in nearly a week.

...

The boy he was _supposed_ to call his _best friend_.

...

The boy who was currently being wheeled into a morgue, ready to be cemented 6 feet underground for the rest of eternity. His life snatched from him in the blink of an eye.

...

The boy Blaine...had betrayed.

* * *

><p>Oh God.<p>

* * *

><p>Blaine's body shook, his feet squeaking on the hardwood floors of his dormitory as he staggered aimlessly inside. He slowly tried to make his way over to his bed but his legs just couldn't support him anymore. He felt them slip out from beneath him and he went tumbling to the floor, just managing to catch himself on his palms before he slammed, full force into the ground. His knees, once again, taking the brunt force of his body weight with a loud and painful sounding, crack.<p>

For one, heart wrenching moment, everything was still. For one moment it was just him. Just Blaine. His heart pounding in his chest, his limbs trembling where he lay, his chest heaving as waves of emotion flooded through him, his mind screaming at him, telling him not to think about it, to close down and protect himself, to not feel this...this earth shattering _misery_.

But then the silence was broken as a small voice spoke up. Blaine heard it echo off the walls and it took him a second to realize that it was his own words resonating in the room; tiny and feeble but speaking out the one thing that was breaking him apart.

'Kurt.'

And he couldn't hold it in any longer.

* * *

><p>His heart lurched as long, shuddering breaths were drawn from his lungs, his head lolling over and his stomach churning, acid rising up into his throat, choking him.<p>

Tears he didn't know he was crying were streaming down his face as his eyes scrunched shut. He could feel them slip off his jaw and start to soak into his shirt; his entire body trembling as he sobbed.

He brought his arms up to wrap around himself, trying to physically hold himself together. Trying to keep everything in and keep the pain out. He was squeezing his chest so hard his body began to scream in agony, his arms slowly crushing his ribs into dust, but Blaine ignored it.

He cried, not knowing that anyone could feel like this. Not knowing what to do, or what to think or say or be. Pain like this had never been tangible, not to him, not until now. He didn't even know anything like this could exist. It was just an expression for authors and directors to use. Not something for real people to feel.

But oh god was it real.

And nothing had ever hurt more.

He felt like he was being torn apart from the inside; his very _being,_ being ripped to shreds;_ burning_ and s_corching_ in the earth's harsh atmosphere.

And he could do nothing to stop it, only cry out the name louder than before as his throat refused to let anything else past.

* * *

><p>Time passed.<p>

The screaming stopped.

His throat just couldn't handle it anymore.

There was blood as he coughed.

* * *

><p>Nothing could make things better, nothing at all. So he did the only thing he knew he could.<p>

He curled up into a ball... and just let himself sob.

* * *

><p>Blaine didn't notice when the door to his dorm re-opened. He didn't notice as footsteps crossed across the floor, or as a body crouched down next to him.<p>

He only noticed when the figure placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

* * *

><p>Blaine turned to find himself face to face with Sebastian. The other boys eyes red rimmed from crying, and realising his would undoubtedly look the same.<p>

Blaine couldn't bring himself to speak. The words just wouldn't come. He shrugged Sebastian's hand off his shoulder and closed his eyes, trying to stop his own fingers trembling as he clasped his palms together.

Sebastian nodded, as if he understood, and for the time being, the boys just sat in silence, gazing at the wall. Neither wanting to be alone.

* * *

><p>After a long time, Blaine spoke up. His voice was rough and worn, weak from screaming. His throat burned as he forced out the words.<p>

'What are you doing here?'

Sebastian blinked, looking down to the ground, before briefly glancing up at Blaine. 'I…Matron sent me to find you. She...I...' he paused. 'We wanted to make sure you were okay.'

Blaine looked disbelievingly at his boyfriend. An expression of near revulsion fixing itself on his face. His sudden anger may be uncalled for, but what the _hell_ kind of question was that?

'And w_hat _on _earth_, made you think I'd be okay?' Blaine spat, his eyes narrowing as he looked Seb up and down.

Sebastian heard the anger in Blaine's tone, but chose to ignore it, Blaine was just being silly. 'You ran off without warning. You were chased down by a bulking great guard and dragged back here. You saw..._him_.' he gulped and shifted uncomfortable in his place. Blaine froze. 'I had to make sure you didn't...hurt yourself or something. I don't want you to get hurt.'

'Well it's too late for that isn't it?' The shorter teen hissed, turning away. Not missing the sudden wounded look that settled on his boyfriends face. Seeing the expression on Sebastian's face sent a sudden wave of accomplishment, rolling through him, making him feel proud that he had caused it.

'Blaine' Seb said with a sigh. 'I know-' But he was cut off as Blaine spun back round, his face mere inches from Sebastian's with a sneer fixed on his lips.

'Don't even think about it. You don't know anything. Don't you dare tell me you know how I'm feeling, because you _don't._ You know absolutely _fuck_ all about how I feel right now, _Smythe_.'

Sebastian flinched at the venomous use of his surname. Blaine was glaring at him as he backed away; sliding across the cold floor until his back knocked against the wooden bed frame, and his head fell back alongside with a dull thud.

Blaine closed his eyes, trying to keep the tears still pooling in the corners from spilling out. His dark lashes were trapped together with sticky salt residue, his cheeks stained by the rough water and his throat and forehead red raw from the screaming and lack of oxygen as his breathing remained staggered and slow.

He gave an exasperated sigh. 'And what, you're here to make me feel _better_ now, is that it? To comfort me, and help me up, tell me everything's gonna be okay?'

A sob broke free from his lips.

'Well _guess _what.' Blaine spat as he torso shook. 'It fucking _isn't_. It's _never _going to be _okay,_ because he's...f-f-fucking gone! He's fucking gone, a-and there's _nothing_ I can do.'

Seb winced, but Blaine continued.

'My _best friend..._ is _dead..._and there is _nothing _that I can do to make it better'

Seb tried to get closer, but Blaine held out a hand and gave a muffled 'don't touch me.' Sebastian rolled his eyes and crossed his arms tightly in front of his chest in frustration.

'Well excuse me for trying to help.' Seb muttered, and Blaine snapped.

* * *

><p>'Trying to help?' He shrieked, crossing the room on his knees and resisting the urge to slap Seb across the face. '<em>Trying<em> to help? You haven't done a fucking _thing_ since you got here, just asked if I was ok, as if the answer weren't _fucking_ obvious.'

'Oh come on B.' Seb said. 'You barely spoke to the guy recently-'

This time Blaine did slap him. 'You think I don't know that? You think that exact thought didn't come rushing into my head as I watched them wheel his body away? You think I'm not utterly _despising_ myself right now for being such a terrible person, for not _noticing _how much he was suffering. For not trying to talk to him, or comfort him in anyway. Because _how the fuck_ did I not see that things were so bad for him? How the hell did I not see that my _best friend_ was so depressed he would rather_ die _than live another day like this?'

'Ok, ok. Geeze.' Seb said, still rubbing his cheek. 'No need to go all Ape shit on m-'

'I have every _fucking_ right to go all ape shit on you Sebastian. Don't try and play the victim here.'

'I was the one who fucking found him.' Seb yelled, saliva flying over and freckling Blaine's face.

'And I'm the one who lost my best friend.' Blaine replied, his voice shrill and pitchy. 'I saw him too Seb. I saw him too. I saw as they took him away in a body bag. The last time I ever saw him, and it had to be like that. My best friend-'

'I lost him too.' Seb interjected.

'Oh please, like you _ever _cared about him.' Blaine barked. 'You barely fucking knew him, and the only time you mentioned him was to moan about how awful he was.'

'That's because he was.' Seb cried. 'Him and his little gay face-'

'Exactly, you just insult him, so how the fuck does that make out you care?'

'Because _Blaine,' _Seb cried_._ 'I may not have liked the guy, but I still feel pretty damn shit that he's dead.'

'Yeah, well you're hardly showing it now.'

'Fine then Blaine.' Seb barked. 'Tell me what you want me to do, I'm in no better position than you, but of course you have to be the drama queen. So what does his highness want me to do about it?'

Blaine froze.

* * *

><p>He blinked, opening his eyes and just looking at Seb, who had moved and was now hunched on the other side of the room, avoiding Blaine's gaze. Something within the dark haired Warbler changed and in a split second all his anger was gone...replaced with utter hopelessness.<p>

Because there was nothing to do...the only thing he wanted was to-

* * *

><p>'Bring him back.' Blaine said quietly, his voice fading into sheer anguish.<p>

Sebastian felt something in his chest ache; suddenly regretting his earlier words as he saw Blaines form sag and shrink.

'I would do _anything._ I just want you to bring him back.'

Sebastian sat stock still, watching as Blaine folded into himself, locking himself down and closing off from the outside world. The words he spoke were distant and suddenly Seb realised that Blaine wasn't talking to him. The shorter boys head turned and slumped down so his chin was pressed against his chest. His voice was nothing more than a whisper, he just seemed so utterly lost.

Seb watched as his eyes gently closed, and he sucked in a deep breath, letting it rattle though his body before he let the words flow again.

* * *

><p>'Bring back my best friend. Bring him back so I can see him<em> smile,<em> and hear his _voice,_ and watch him perform. Bring him back so I can sing with him, and watch him dance, and see his face as he does something he _loves._ Bring him back so I can hold _him_ in _my_ arms and tell him how much he means to me and how I regret _ever_ taking him for granted.'

'Bring him back.' The teen said desperatly. 'Please..._Somebody,_ that's all i want.'

His hands fell and pounded against the floor, a loud thud resonated around the room, then everything was silent. Broken only, by the tiny whisper from a broken boy.

'Please, just bring him back.'

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Train- The Finish Line.**

**Thank you for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

**EDIT: people keep complaining of no update. I don't know why it isn't showing up for half of you, so i'm trying again. If you can see it, do tell me, because i need to work out what is going on. Thanks :L**

**A/N: Ok, so this fic will have 7 chapters. I have them all planned out and I will try and get them written as soon as I can. You have to be in the right mind set for this type of story though, so I cannot give any definite answers in regards to update times as writing it will be mostly spontaneous.**

**Apologies for the missing update. FFn has been having some serious problems recently, as i'm sure you are aware. If it messes up again i will post the chapter to my tumblr, as i did with this one a couple of days ago. For some reason no emails seemed to be going out, and i didn't recieve updates for anything for a few days. I pulled the chapter to try and see if it was just me messing up, apparently not, but there you go. It's here now. **

**I would have tried to fix the problem on wednesday, but i was boarding at school with no internet access on my laptop. So again, sorry.**

****Anyway here is chapter 5. I hope you enjoy.****

* * *

><p>Sebastian left shortly after.<p>

There was no reason for him to stay.

Blaine remained sat on the floor, his body hunched over in a muscle tearing position, but he honestly didn't care. There was a numbness to his person that made everything seem unreal.

Besides, the pain in his body was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

* * *

><p>It must have been well into the night when Blaine finally made his way over to his bed. He had to physically drag himself across the floor. The rough patches of the wooden floor boards caught on his slacks and began to snag and tear the fabric. But still Blaine didn't care.<p>

Nothing mattered. Not now. How could anything as trivial as that compare to everything else occurring in his life.

His hands grasped at the corner of his bed as he hoisted himself up into the thick folds of his comforter. He let himself sink into his mattress and get lost in the warmth of his sheets. He could feel the material tickle his skin, before smothering him completely as he wrapped himself up.

For some reason it felt as if for one brief moment, those sheets could be his shelter.

Maybe if he got lost within them he'd never have to return to the real world. He could live there forever, constructing his own fantasy where Kurt was still alive, and there with him. Drinking coffee and singing show tunes and just...living.

Blaine sighed and felt a fresh wave of tears coming on. He sank his head into his pillow, letting the fabric soak up his sobs before they could escape down his cheeks.

* * *

><p>He had no idea of the time when he finally emerged from the shelter of his bed. Hours could have passed, days even. He didn't know...he didn't care.<p>

The world was calling him, like an unwelcome alarm on a school day, only a hundred times worse.

* * *

><p>Blaine blinked at the sudden intrusion of light as he poked his head out of his blanket cocoon. He squinted around, surveying his room, as if something would have changed.<p>

Nothing had.

Of course nothing had.

This wasn't some fantasy. He couldn't just wake up and make everything ok. He had to live with this...with himself. After everything, the world kept on turning, and Blaine wasn't strong enough to hold it still.

He sat up, inhaling deeply and raising a hand to rub the sleep from his eyes. He had slept, at least that was something. He wasn't sure how many sleepless nights would befall him once the reality really sunk in, so it was good he wasn't falling apart completely just yet.

Blaine reached forwards, stretching his arms in a cat like manner, shuddering as he heard the faint click of his vertebrae slotting into place. He rolled his shoulders back and shrugged the sheets away from his body.

He was still dressed in the same clothes as before.

As when he saw Kurt.

...

Oh god, he had to change. He had to change now.

Blaine swung his legs over the side of the bed and half ran to his closet. His feet sliding across the floor, still clad in his socks. A faint squeak echoed as he skidded to a halt.

He threw open his closet doors and began to tug clothes out, yanking them off the hangers with hulk like strength, the sound of seams tearing happening more than once.

* * *

><p>...<p>

* * *

><p>Minutes later and clothes lay strewn across the floor and Blaine lay amongst them. Shaking violently, his hands clenched into fists and he rocked back and forth.<p>

And why?

Because out of the corner of his eye, he had seen a disk.

A disk with his name on it.

And as much as he had subconsciously hoped, that disk was not the DVD that Kurt had borrowed.

It was a self-writable disk.

One for him, from Kurt.

And he was too scared to do anything about it.

* * *

><p>...<p>

* * *

><p>It took Blaine what felt like forever to actually take a second look at the disk. And then around the same time again to pick it up.<p>

He didn't even know what it was, yet somehow it felt so final.

It could be a wretched play list to hear in the bath, and yet it was the last thing he had ever received from his best friend.

Somehow that terrified him.

Yet still he knew, it was such an inevitability, but he_ needed_ to watch it.

* * *

><p>Lift.<p>

Move.

Sit.

Lift.

Turn on.

Load.

Open.

Remove.

Open.

Insert.

Load.

Breathe.

Click.

Breathe.

_Watch._

* * *

><p><em>'Hi, Blaine.'<em>

At the sound of that voice, Blaine feels his entire chest constrict. His heart starts beating uncontrollably and his eyes are drawn to the figure on the screen with polar magnetism.

Kurt.

* * *

><p>He had finally summoned the courage to watch the disk after crying for another half hour on the floor. He didn't know what to do. He needed to watch it but he knew no matter what it was it had the power to break him. Because it was from Kurt.<p>

He didn't even know...he just...his reasoning didn't make sense...

He didn't want to watch it...he didn't want to know what was there...he didn't...but he needed to...more than he needed to breathe...more than he needed air in his lungs or a pulse in his heart...he just...

He didn't even know.

But none the less, the disk had found its way into the slot in his laptop and he had pressed play when the media player came up.

It flashed a brief photo of Kurt's face across the screen before playing, and Blaine stopped breathing.

* * *

><p>'<em>Hi Blaine.'<em>

There he was; sat in his dorm room, the dim light from a table lamp illuminating his angelic features.

There was a faint smile gracing his lips, his head quirked adorably to the side. His skin seemed to glow in the light, his almost stony white complexion shining bright, dull red tears tracks staining his otherwise perfect skin.

_'It feels weird saying this to an empty room, but you're away with Sebastian right now and this was the best I could do given the situation. Notes are just so time consuming, you know? And this needs to be over fast. Like ripping off a band aid. Quick and easy.'_

Oh...

Oh God...

No...this wasn't what he thought...no...

Why would Kurt send this to him...why not his dad, his step-mom, his step-brother, Wes, David, Nick, Jeff..._anyone_ else...why him?...

Kurt swallows on screen; Blaine can just make out his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as Kurt glances down to his conjoined hands. They are trembling.

* * *

><p><em>'You know, I always liked you. From that first moment we met, and you told me your name. You held my hand. No one's ever done that before. Not like that.'<em>

_'You're such an amazing guy, Blaine; so dapper and charming and sweet. You were always so kind to me, back at the start; always so unbelievably kind. You comforted me when you found out what was going on at McKinley and took care of me. You made it bearable.'_

Blaine can see the tears shining in the other boy's eyes. They are practically consuming up the azure pools and Blaine wonders how the teen could even make out the camera.

He knows that he himself is crying. He can feel he moisture run down his face. He is still trying to work out why on earth Kurt sent this to him...there doesn't seem to be a -

_'And I fell in love with you.'_

* * *

><p>Oh...<p>

* * *

><p><em>His breath wavers and he can feel his throat close up. <em>

Blaine watches as Kurt's body shakes. The boy looks so lost, so helpless. He wants nothing more than to reach out, and take Kurt's hand and tell him that everything would be alright.

But he can't.

And right now he is second guessing their entire relationship. Running through every little word the boy ever said to him, trying to find a hint of these emotions, any suggestion Kurt ever made to indicate his true feelings towards Blaine.

'_Too bad they wouldn't let us sing it together.'_

'_Man up. You're amazing. He's gonna love you.'_

_'I admire you Blaine.'_

'_I thought the person you were going to sing to...was me.'_

'_Like when Harry met Sally.'_

* * *

><p>'<em>Don't they get together in the end?'<em>

* * *

><p>Truth is...he finds a lot.<p>

* * *

><p><em>'I know it was cliché to fall for the first gay guy I met, but it's what happened. I can't help the past.<em>

_'But I guess that's why I'm not surprised. Not surprised that you keep breaking my heart. I mean, our whole relationship formed off some mentor complex you have. I'm grateful for it, really. Because it brought me a friend, but looking back...I just think...I'm just a project to you, aren't I?'_

_'I'm the bullied gay kid, looking for an escape, and you're the dapper white knight flying in to save the day. Right?'_

_'I guess that's why we don't talk much anymore. All that stuff with Karofsky, that's gone now. I'm meant to be healed right? So no need for dapper Mr. Mentor to stand by my side. You don't think I need you anymore...'_

_He sniffs._

_'But I do Blaine. I really, really do...I-'_

_He pauses._

_'...did...'_

_He trails off, staring down at the floor._

* * *

><p>Blaine didn't know what to think.<p>

Everything on the screen, his inner monologue, all these thoughts jamming up his mind, making everything twist and bend and break away. He doesn't even know anymore.

What was real, what was pretend?

Did Kurt really think that, Did Blaine give out that impression, Did he think this was all some complex, that it wasn't real...was their entire friendship a lie?

...

No..._No..._ It wasn't. It couldn't be... They were friends. True friends. They always were.

They were Kurt and Blaine. Always together, through thick and thin, good and bad, solo and duet...at least they _were._

But then that could be misconstrued too. Kurt and Blaine. Kurt _and _Blaine. _KurtandBlaine._

That was relationship talk there.

That was how people referred to couples. A persons missing puzzle piece, one soul, one entity, always together.

Two people who needed each other, who held hands, who hugged and embraced and laughed and lived and loved...two people...like them.

...

Oh God. He had completely lead Kurt on.

And Kurt thought he didn't care...

* * *

><p><em>'I know you don't want my sorry behind dragging you down, but...I just wished you'd told me, before I tried to be your friend. Your <em>_real__ friend...before I made a fool of myself trying...because when you abandoned me, that hurt. It really did Blaine.'_

_'I don't know what it feels like to like someone and have them like me back, looking back at us...at one point I thought, maybe...just maybe, I stood a chance with you. It was stupid, I know, but after you agreed to my silly When Harry Met Sally thing, I thought...just maybe...because of course they get together, everyone knows that, and I thought you did too... But then it turned out you didn't, not really, because you've never even watched the film, so you were just playing along with my ramblings. Just playing along to keep me happy...I thought...I thought...just maybe...'_

_'I've just been fooling myself the whole time. I made it all up in my head. Every last bit. Again...First Finn, then Sam, and now you...No one ever likes me back'_

* * *

><p>He completely lead him on. Without a shadow of a doubt. He had done everything a boyfriend would do...everything...<p>

Oh God, _everything_ they did...and...and...

The hand holding the moment they met.

The singing wretched _Teenage Dream _of all things, _right _to his face.

The coffee _not_-dates.

The flirty duets.

The warm embraces and casual touches.

The meeting the friends.

The meeting the parents.

The late night movie marathons, with the popcorn between them so their fingers tips would occasionally brush and he could lean on Kurt's shoulder and share his drink and snuggle under the blanket together...

_The touch a fingertips..._

What had he done?

What the _fuck _had he done?

* * *

><p><em>'It's funny...because then we get back to Karofsky...because he likes me. He kissed me. He stole my first boy kiss because he likes me, and yet I just want him to leave me alone. But he doesn't, not really. So...I guess your likeness of me and him was right. '<em>

* * *

><p>Is that the impression he gave out.<p>

Did Blaine really make Kurt feel as bad as Karofsky?

Karofsky was a sexual predator. An insecure little boy, too weak to stand up for himself, so cowardly he felt the need to bully someone for the exact same thing he struggled with everyday. He didn't think about the consequences, only acted like a reckless fool.

He was a monster. He may have his problems, but by God was he a monster.

And Blaine...

'_Yeah, I've had a lot of luck, Blaine. I was really lucky to be chased out of high school by a bully who threatened to kill me.'_

'_And why did he do that?'_

'_Because he didn't like who I was'_

'_Sort of, exactly what you're saying to me right now then. Isn't it?'_

...

He compared Kurt to Karofsky.

He compared his best friend...to that...that thing?

He...no...No...that wasn't right...how could he..._why...WHY?_

No matter how bad a crisis you were having, you _never _said things like that to your friends. And God...Kurt. Watching him gallivanting around must have been heart breaking.

And Kurt had kept that with him all that time. What Blaine had said to him. Kurt loved Blaine, of _course _he would value his opinion.

'_I look up to you Blaine. I admire how proud you are of who you are.'_

And for him to tell Kurt that he was a monster...that he was in _any way _like Karofsky.

What kind of a friend did that?

* * *

><p><em>'Because I like you, and you don't like me, and you probably want me to just leave you alone, and I don't.'<em>

_He looks up at the camera, a sad smile on his face._

_'But I will, don't worry. I'll stop bothering you, just...please listen to the end of this. Then you never have to hear from me again...honest.'_

* * *

><p>He made Kurt feel like that. Not anybody else...him.<p>

He made Kurt feel unwelcome and unwanted.

Kurt was being outcast by the man he loved...and he did nothing to stop it, because when he tried...Blaine...

Blaine shuddered.

But then...Kurts small smile, and pleading expression. As if he didn't trust Blaine to even watch the DVD because it contained a message from him.

Did he really make him feel that hated?

So hated that Kurt thought him dying...would make Blaine feel better.

How the _hell_ could he have done that_?_

That was barbaric...

What had he become?

* * *

><p><em>'I don't believe in God. I think you know that, I remember us talking about faith over coffee once.'<em>

_'I tried to believe. I really did, I mean... when my mom was diagnosed with cancer I tried to pray. I was eight, what else could I do? I prayed to God, to angels, to anyone I thought would listen.'_

_'But they didn't listen, and she died. Right when I needed her most. I just_ didn't understand. _Why wouldn't anybody help me? And then dad had his heart attack, and...and...why? I don't understand Blaine. Why me? Why is it always me and my family? Is whatever deity not satisfied by taking my mother away. By making me gay, and then telling me it's a choice and I should be shunned and mocked and abused because of it. Does it not satisfy him to watch me suffer, to watch me being beaten down__ every single day__, just for trying to be myself? Why not add the icing to the cake, why not take away my last hope. Yeah, just take away my dad too, because the gay kind sure isn't in enough misery, let's torment him some more.'_

* * *

><p>All his life Kurt had struggled.<p>

All his Goddamn life.

And Blaine just made it worse.

Kurt was just looking for a friend. Someone like him, who he could confide in and trust. Someone who wouldn't push him about, or mock him, or _accidently _insult him, or call him homophobic names, just someone to be there for him.

All his life, Kurt had been there for others. He was so caring...Blaine honestly couldn't think of the last thing Kurt had done for his own benefit.

And when Kurt finally thought he could start relying on others, start letting some of his pressures go, start being a normal teenager. He'd had Blaine goddamn Anderson come in and ruin it all.

Kurt just wanted to be loved.

And Blaine had screwed all chances of that up, and spat the remains back in Kurt's face.

He had just wanted someone to be there for him.

* * *

><p><em>'And I may not believe in God, Blaine... but I know there's a hell. I'm living it. Hell is losing everyone you love. Hell is having no one to turn to, no one to help you. Hell is watching the guy you're in love with, kissing the girl, who not only stole away your first crush, but is supposed to be your friend. Hell is having her know exactly how you feel, but her choosing to ignore it for her own personal gain. Because having two guys chasing after her isn't enough. Why not add a third?'<em>

_A tear escapes the confines of his eye. Trickling down his face, mapping a shining path along his cheek until it drips down onto his knee, soaking into the denim on his legs._

_'Hell is watching the man you love in the arms of another; knowing that you can never, _ever _have him.'_

* * *

><p>He was the monster.<p>

Blaine Anderson.

He was a complete and utter monster.

* * *

><p><em>'What is it? Blaine. What is it that makes me so horrific, so repulsive, that you, the most open and proud gay guy I've ever met, ever <em>heard _of, want to date a girl over me. Because even though you're gay, you would rather kiss a girl and go on a date with a girl instead of even_trying_ to go on a date with me. '_

_'I don't understand. Blaine...but then I tried, I tried to explain myself to you...and it came out all wrong and jumbled and I didn't mean what I said, because I was just angry. Angry at you and at Rachel, because even if you weren't gay you two wouldn't work out in a million years. And I was just trying to stop things before they got too bad. And I know I sound selfish, but I honestly just didn't want you to get hurt; because I can't stand to see you hurting. Because, even if you don't like me at all, I still consider you a friend...my best friend, so I need to make sure you're happy. I just wish you could be happy with me...'_

* * *

><p>He didn't mean it.<p>

Kurt had been trying to help...

He'd...he hadn't been sniping at Blaine, or telling him he was wrong. He wasn't trying to prove a point, or play who's the proudest...

He...he had been trying to help.

Two of his best friends had been trying at a relationship that was doomed before it even started...

Kurt was trying to keep them safe. To keep them happy.

Not to oppress their feelings...

To make sure their feelings weren't hurt... Because he lo-...h-he loved them...

And Blaine spat it all back in his face.

* * *

><p>'<em>For you of all people, to get down on me for that...I didn't think that's who you were.'<em>

No...but that was who Blaine was.

* * *

><p><em>'If Rachel got you then it just wouldn't be fair...she get's everything. She got Finn and she get's solo's, and even that one time I thought I could beat her, I had to lose on purpose to help my dad. Because otherwise he would hurt...so she beat me again, she beats me at everything. And this one time, where I could say I had more of a chance...I thought I could beat her, even if nothing would ever happen, I could say I would, that if anything were to happen...I thought I stood more of a chance...but now that's not true, either, and I lost again, because they all love her, and all hate me. Maybe if I was straight...or a girl, people wouldn't feel the need to try and destroy me every day, I don't know why they do it Blaine? I just... I don't know...'<em>

* * *

><p>Kurt was so caring.<p>

So completely and utterly compassionate...it just broke Blaine's heart.

God...what did Kurt do for himself...who did things for Kurt.

Kurt was doing this for Blaine, for Rachel, for his Dad...But who was doing things for him?

And now...God, there was so much self hatred there. So much loathing...would he really rather be a girl...would he rather be straight...Kurt was so proud...he was...he-

...

He had been oppressed and pushed down, _every day_ for something he couldn't avoid.  
>He had been abuse him and hate him and attack him, just for him being himself.<br>He had been told he was a girl...but then he couldn't compete with them, because he wasn't one.  
>He had been outcast from every social group, every cliché...every gender...<br>And no one did anything about it...

'_And all hate me.'_

He had to hide himself away, to protect those around him feeling the aftershock of his abuse.  
>He wanted to keep his loved ones safe...so he sacrificed himself...<p>

And everyone else, took it for granted.

* * *

><p><em>'And then you compared me to Karofsky, and we go back, because I realized that I keep trying to be your friend. I keep texting and calling you, and inviting you out, but that must be bad. Because if I bother you as much as Karofsky does to me then that's really bad. Because I just want him to leave me alone... so that must mean that you want me to leave you alone.'<em>

_'I will. I promise.'_

* * *

><p>He thought he was doing Blaine a favour...<p>

He thought...

He thought _Blaine_ hated him.

* * *

><p><em>'You don't need me...You have Sebastian now. Perfect, perfect Sebastian. With his perfect hair, his perfect body, his perfect smile, his perfect coffee order, his perfect everything. So why would you want grotty old Kurt Hummel when you could have the great Sebastian Smythe? Believe me; I can see why you chose him.'<em>

* * *

><p>Blaine had been so blind.<p>

So utterly blind.

He had taken all Kurt gave him and just shoved it right back in his face.

Rubbing in all the little details that were slowly breaking Kurt's heart.

* * *

><p><em>'I just...'<em>

_He pauses, and looks back into the camera._

_'Do you know what number one is on my bucket list?'_

_The tears break past his walls, slowly starting to follow in the tracks of the first._

_'It was to find somebody to love... and when I met __you__... I could honestly tick that off my list...'_

* * *

><p>Oh God...<p>

No...Please...

* * *

><p>'<em>But then...Then I realised, that may be an ambition of mine, but it means nothing elsewhere, because the real wish, my Number 2... Is to find someone to love who <em>_loves you back__, someone who won't leave your love unrequited... but... that clearly isn't you, Blaine.'_

_He sniffs and wipes at his sodden face with the sleeve of his jacket._

_'I wish it was.' He murmurs. 'I really, really wish it was.'_

* * *

><p>No...No...No, no, no, no, no, Nononononono, NO.<p>

Kurt...no...you can't do this Kurt...nonono, please Kurt stop, you can't do this, you can't!

* * *

><p><em>'But... I'll go now, and leave you and Sebastian be. I'd like to say we could have still been friends, but I could never be just that with you, it just hurts too much...'<em>

* * *

><p>Please Kurt, please. You can't do this...you can't...it'll be ok...we can work something out...please...please come back...you... I-<p>

* * *

><p><em>'Blaine...My dear, dear Blaine.'<em>

_He smiles, a faint twitch of his lips to try and show some positivity._

_'I wish you __every__ love and happiness this world has to offer! I hope you can live your life to the fullest and enjoy every second. I hope you achieve your dreams and show the world what you can do. Shine Blaine. Shine like I know you can...'_

* * *

><p>Please Kurt...don't do this...<p>

Blaine can see his smile, just a faint twitch of the lips, as if he's trying to assure the boy watching that everything will be ok.

He thought Blaine hated him.

He thought no one cared.

He thought people saw him as a monster.

He saw himself as a burden.

He saw himself as nothing.

He thought he had no friends.

He thought he was unlovable.

...

He was the most amazing, compassionate, beautiful boy to ever grace the planet.

He was so precious... worth more than all the riches in the world combined.

He was talented, charming, generous, loving...

He was witty, sarcastic, emotional, fantastic...

He was incredible.

He was...

He is...

Dead.

Gone.

...

Forever...

* * *

><p><em>'I Love you. So, so much Blaine... I hope you find someone to complete your Number 2 with. And I hope they realise what a lucky guy they are... Who knows, maybe someday...? I could have been so lucky... But to tell the truth... No one could ever have compared to you!'<em>

* * *

><p>The video ends. The camera is switched off. The tear stained face of one Kurt Hummel flashing across the screen, before a grainy fuzz overtakes the screen.<p>

Blaine sits...stock still.

He can't even think...he can't process that.

He feels...he doesn't know what he feels...

He can't...it doesn't...

* * *

><p>Precisely 11 seconds after the DVD stops, an image flashes across the screen.<p>

It features two boys, a coffee shop, a splash of foam on the paler ones nose, and a tanned pair of finger bunny ears made by the other, behind his head.

They are both smiling, they are both happy...and to anyone looking...it looks like they are both in love.

It is on screen for a mere 5 seconds before the disk ends completely, and self ejects.

It takes all of those 5 seconds for Blaine Anderson...to completely and utterly, fall apart.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Here's the penultimate chapter.**

**Enjoy**

* * *

><p>They have to call Blaine's parents to the school.<p>

He can't function.

He won't eat or sleep or talk...not to anyone.

He is empty...the frozen shell of a once carefree boy.

But he refuses to leave Dalton.

Refuses to go home...

Kurt was here...Kurt was at Dalton.

Kurt...

He's all Blaine can think about, all that resides in his mind, in his thoughts and dreams. In every breath he takes...

Kurt.

Blaine's become scarily obsessive. He knows this, but he can't help it; can't stop it. And for some reason... he doesn't really want to.

* * *

><p>It does something to you; knowing that you, almost singlehandedly, ended a life.<p>

The guilt you feel consumes you; makes every breath laboured and every movement ripe with pain. It traps your mind and ensnares your soul. The weight of it lays heavy on your shoulders everywhere you go.

There is no escape

Blaine Anderson knows this.

Right now he feels like he knows this better than anyone.

* * *

><p>It's not even like Kurt blamed him. He told his story and bared his heart, but never once did he out rightly blame his friend.<p>

He had every right to. It was clear that it was Blaine's fault. He was stupid, he was blind, he was too thick to see what was right in front of him and he crushed the soul of the most amazing boy...

But Kurt still didn't blame him.

And that was eating Blaine up alive.

* * *

><p>There was no anger. No screamed words about how Blaine had ruined his life, no bitter cries of abuse towards Sebastian, no swears or slander hurled his way; more disappointment with the world than resentment towards Blaine.<p>

Which just made things worse.

Blaine wanted anger, he wanted Kurt to hate him, to curse his very name and spit on him in the street. He would rather that than this. The gentle acknowledgement that Blaine didn't love him, Just a quiet acceptance of the way things were. The way he sounded so tired and strung out was heartbreaking. He was so still, he just tried to muster up a smile, not even to cheer himself up, but rather to show Blaine that all was not lost.

But it was.

Kurt had completely and utterly given up hope, and no matter what was spoken aloud, Blaine knew it was because of him.

He had lost everything.

_His everything._

And nobody, _nobody, _no matter what their whispered words of comfort said, could understand what that was like.

* * *

><p>It was only two days after Blaine's breakdown that the movers came to take away Kurt's belongings.<p>

They came with a van. A van and Kurt's father.

Two men, neither much older than twenty, wondered up through the corridors of Dalton. A scrap of paper in their hand with a dorm number inscribed upon it. Mr Hummel followed shortly after; his heavy feet dragging against the cold stone tiles as he moved, echoing through the walls and making everyone freeze when they saw him.

No one knew what to say.

This wasn't the appearance of a man to say anything to.

This was a man who had not only lost his wife, but now his only son; his son who had been through so much and seemingly come out stronger. His son who was oppressed and bullied but never gave up hope; his son who had had to flee from his home town, because his life was endangered.

His son who no longer had a life to be put in danger.

But that wasn't the only problem. Kurt had been staying at Dalton for the last few weeks, rarely returning home, if at all. He had spent the majority of his time in his dorm room, quiet and alone.

His own father hadn't seen him before he died.

He had lost day upon day of time he could have spent with his son; those precious few hours. Time when Kurt could have come home, when he could have called Kurt back to stay the night, or even just have dinner.

But he didn't.

He was too busy.

And now he would never get the chance to again.

And the guilt on his face seemed to rival Blaine's own.

* * *

><p>Blaine's parents were talking with the head of school, trying to decide what would be best for Blaine; he didn't like it. They kept talking about him like he wasn't there. So he left, easy as.<p>

He couldn't go to class, he couldn't concentrate. He couldn't talk to anyone, because he had nothing to talk about. All he could think about was Kurt, and no one else was willing to bring the boy up. So Blaine set about wondering the halls of the school. There was no purpose to his travels. He wasn't going anywhere. He just wanted to get away from the other people. Give him a little time to himself.

It didn't help that on his journeys he kept crossing paths with Mr Hummel.

The older man's eyes were blank; looking forward, but never truly seeing. Huge purpling bags lay beneath them, displaying a horrific lack of sleep and peace. His face had gained darkening wrinkles and his entire body was slumped over as he walked. His cheeks had left over salt residue that hadn't been washed away since the last time he cried, and his cheeks still had a weepy, red hue marked upon them.

He looked utterly used and useless. Like his entire reason for existing had been ripped from him.

Although in many ways...it had.

* * *

><p>The day Kurt was born, when he was wrapped in a little green blanket and handed to Burt. As Burt had walked the halls of the hospital humming to his son as the doctors tried to keep Lizzy stable after the terribly difficult birth. As Kurt slept in his arms, a new born baby, not even an hour hold, so tiny and helpless. So innocent and carefree in a world of malice, Burt had promised with every molecule of his being that he would never let his son down.<p>

He had promised Kurt that they'd find a way to survive after Elizabeth died. He promised that he would always protect Kurt, from whatever and whoever tried to hurt him. He promised he would help Kurt grow to be a proud and confident man; to make his dreams come true. He had sworn to always be there for him, whenever he needed. To always be a shoulder to cry on; to be a helping hand.

But still, he had failed.

But the worst bit was, even as Blaine saw the man walk past, saw him fall apart before him, and saw the heart stopping guilt in his eyes, he still couldn't bring himself to tell Burt that it wasn't his fault.

That it was his own.

That he was the reason this man's only son was dead.

For so long, he had preached courage.

So where was it when he needed it most?

* * *

><p>Blaine would just force a small smile as the man passed him, giving him a nod of acknowledgment as the man cleared out more and more of Kurt's belongings.<p>

He would sit in a corner and just watch as every last trace of Kurt was stripped from the hallowed halls of Dalton; as they took all the little nick-nacks and very pieces of Kurt's life away.

Blaine watched as crates of clothes, bedding, statuettes, and posters were carried away. The movers did everything with a stoic stillness, as if they were robots not people. But Burt would cradle every object to his chest as he walked. Clutching the last pieces of his son close to him; breathing them in.

Trying to remember.

* * *

><p>It took them almost the entire day to clear away Kurt's last possessions.<p>

Blaine saw it all. He watches out of windows as they loaded things into the van and catalogued everything that was being taken away from him.

The poster Kurt bought of the Beatles Yellow Submarine album cover; when he and Blaine had visited a vinyl record store before Christmas.

The small model Tony Award that used to sit on his window sill and the little bobble head Glinda that used to sit next to it.

Kurt's tuck-trunk. Filled with organic sweets and rice cakes, along with his secret stash of Hershey's dark chocolate that only Blaine knew about.

It was all gone.

He would never see it again.

* * *

><p>Blaine was staring down at the two men packing the last crate into the van, when a large figure approached him. Blaine heard the footsteps and spun around, finding himself face to face with a tearful Burt Hummel. His body loomed in the doorway, it wasn't hard to tell how the man found him. Blaine had seen him glance his way through the window as they loaded boxes away. Besides, Blaine was only in a small study room and he had been shuffling about terribly as he gazed outside. Burt must have followed the noise.<p>

The man watched him for a moment, before stepping closer and giving Blaine a small smile.

* * *

><p>'Alright there kiddo?' he asked as he took up a position next to Blaine, leaning against the window frame.<p>

Blaine gave a non committal hum and looked once again, out the window. They stayed in silence for a moment before Blaine spoke up. 'So this is it then?' he whispered as the van doors slammed shut.

Burt nodded and laid a hand on Blaine's shoulder. 'I'm sorry kid. I really am. This...this came as a shock to all of us. Carole and I...we never saw this coming, I don't think anyone did. Kurt...he was such a great kid...this...we never expected anything like this.' He sniffed and tried to surreptitiously wipe at his eyes. 'I know there isn't much I can say right now...but...' he trailed off and gave Blaine's shoulder a comforting squeeze.

'Just thank you.' he finally finished, causing Blaine to turn and face him with a bewildered expression.

'Thank you for being a good friend to my son. I really appreciate it. Kurt...He...he thought the world of you, kid; like the bleedin' sun shone out your ass.'

Blaine gulps and a knot forms in his throat. He wants to speak, but can't seem to form the words.

'He wouldn't shut up about you. I...I know how _close_ you two were, and...umm...I know how hard this is gonna be for you so I...' he hesitates, and begins to rummage in the deep pockets of his deep green work coat. Blaine is still watching attentively as the older man searches around. He doesn't know what is going on, or why Burt is saying these things; they aren't true...at least, that was what he once believed...

* * *

><p>'I-' Burt says eventually as his grip tightens around the desired item. 'I thought maybe...maybe you should have this...as...to remind you of him- of Kurt.' Blaine cocks his head to the side but then Burt pulls out a small, slightly tattered picture from his pocket.<p>

As he hands it to Blaine, the younger boy catches a glimpse of the two faces. Both his and Kurt's; smiling into the camera with their arms slung around each other's shoulders.

They are both dressed in their matching Dalton uniform and the scene behind them looks like the sectionals arena. Blaine can make out some of the other Warblers lingering in the background, but all his focus is drawn in by the two of them.

They just look so happy.

Blaine's cheeks are pulled high, causing small creases to form beneath his eyes. His hand is clasping Kurt so tight you can see deep wrinkles form on the other boys clothing. Kurt's smile however...is just beautiful.

His eyes are crinkled and his lips are pulled tight into a cheek splitting grin. You can make out the outline of his teeth just jutting out below his lips and even the rosy blush that has formed on his face. He is leaning ever so slightly into Blaine and their heads are just grazing together. Blaine can almost feel the boy's radiating warmth present with him now.

Suddenly his entire mouth goes dry. His lower lip begins to tremble and salty tears begin to pool in his eyes.

How could he have been so oblivious?

How the fuck...could he be that _stupid?_

* * *

><p>'It was on his bookshelf.' Burt says slowly, when Blaine doesn't reply. 'He had another few with you in but...I...we were hoping that we could keep those if you didn't mind...we...we wanted to have a record of his...relationships...'<p>

Blaine can't think.

He stares at the photo in Burt's outstretched palm and almost stops breathing at what he sees.

They look like a couple.

They really do look like a couple.

They look more like a couple than he and Sebastian do, in _any _of their pictures, even the ones where they have their lips firmly locked.

He doesn't...he can't...it doesn't...

Oh God.

* * *

><p>He extends his arm out and his fingers slowly caress the face of photograph Kurt. Burt gives a tearful smile and presses the photo a little harder, into Blaine's palm.<p>

The other boy blinks and snaps back, accepting the photo with a shaking grip.

The tears begin to leak down his cheeks and Blaine ducks his head and tries to wipe them on his shirt collar.

He quickly steps back from Burt and looks anywhere but at the older man.

'Tha-thank you.' He says with shaking breath. 'I...I...thank you.'

And Blaine can't take anymore.

Burt said relationships. The Warblers used to drop hints continuously, Sebastian was constantly jealous and Kurt felt completely led on.

The way they looked in that picture...god, anyone would think...did everyone think...?

Did everyone think that he and Kurt...

No...that couldn't...no...

Oh God...

Did everyone know that Kurt loved Blaine?

Did everyone think that Blaine loved Kurt back?

It would explain everythi-Oh God...no...No, No, No, he can't take this.

And he runs.

* * *

><p>Back down the corridor, away from Burt. Back passed the classrooms and up that fateful staircase and back towards the dormitories.<p>

He finds himself wanting to throw up as he passes Kurt's empty dorm, the door still open, but he keeps on running until he reaches his own room.

Where upon he slams his door shut, hurls himself onto the bed, clutches the photo to his chest and weeps.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

* * *

><p>That night Blaine did something utterly ridiculous...but honestly, he didn't know what else to do.<p>

He had his phone in his palm, and he was toying with the keypad, when his fingers began to type out a number, he didn't even know what had happened until he'd done it.

He'd rung Kurt.

* * *

><p>This was stupid and ridiculous and reckless...nothing was going to happen. Nothing. So why the fuck was he doing this?<p>

But he just had to, as if by some magical means, it would make everything ok. As if Kurt would pick up and Blaine could just spill everything to him as he once would.

Kurt was always his shoulder to cry on; but now he really needed on, the other boy wasn't there would never be there again.

God, why was he doing this?

He repeated that same thought to himself over and over again as he flipped the phone over in his hand. The numbers glared out at him as he fumbled with the dial pad; he knew what was to come...

* * *

><p><em>One ring.<em>

There was nothing, he knew there was nothing.

_Two rings._

No one would pick up, why was he doing this to himself?

_Three rings._

Maybe if he wished hard enough, it would be a real person that answered. Please someone pick up!

_Four rings._

He had to keep trying. He couldn't let it go.

_Five rings._

Why couldn't he let it go?

_Silence._

'_Hello. This is the wondrous Kurt Hummel. I can't get to the phone right now, so leave a message after the tone and- Oh My God, Blaine don't come near me with that hose'_

There is a muffled voice in the background and then Kurt lets out a high, carefree laugh.

'_An-and'_ he manages through giggles_. 'And I'll try and g-get back to you later. Byeee.'_

There is another high pitched squeal and the message cuts off and the dial tone rings...

And Blaine sits absolutely frozen in his seat.

* * *

><p>Fuck. Everything.<p>

There is nothing else to say.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

* * *

><p>Blaine's parents let him stay at Dalton for the time being, but he doesn't spend his time in class.<p>

He spends it curled up on his bed, with a phone in his hand, spouting off his feelings to a recorded answer phone message.

He doesn't know why.

It is only torturing him further and makes him feel absolutely pathetic.

That message was recorded months ago, seemingly an age ago within his own short life...but God...how things had changed.

They were so happy then. So _god damn _happy.

Kurt was happy and laughing and playful, and they were giggling together and all Blaine could think about was Kurt's smile in the freaking photo.

His smile and his laugh, and the way his eyes used to shine; like they were the wretched sun. And how his cheeks would flush when he was shy or embarrassed and he would duck his head ever so slightly and smile. How his forehead would crease and his eyes brows raise when he was being snarky and they way his upper lip would curl into a sly grin whenever he was teasing the other boys.

And God, Blaine just wanted to remember, it had been less than a week, but he was so _scared _of forgetting; of losing those precious memories of that so very precious boy.

And so he doesn't mind being stupid, or pathetic.

He doesn't mind that this is only hurting him further, because for those brief few seconds, Blaine can pretend that they are still carefree and still happy.

God...so very, _very_ happy.

* * *

><p>'<em>Hello. This is the wondrous Kurt Hummel. I can't get to the phone right now, so leave a message after the tone and- Oh My God, Blaine don't come near me with that hose- An-and ...And I'll try and g-get back to you later. Byeee...'<em>

* * *

><p>'<em>Hello. This is the wondrous Kurt Hummel. I can't get to the phone right now, so leave a message after the tone and- Oh My God, Blaine don't come near me with that hose...'<em>

* * *

><p>'<em>Hello. This is the wondrous Kurt Hummel. I can't get to the phone right now, so leave a message after the tone...'<em>

* * *

><p><em>'Hello. This is the wondrous Kurt Hummel...'<em>

* * *

><p>'<em>Hello...'<em>

'Hello Kurt.'

* * *

><p>He just wants to pretend.<p>

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

* * *

><p>But sadly all things must end...<p>

* * *

><p>It is the following Wednesday, and the school is performing its traditional morning assembly; in The Chapel.<p>

But this time, it's different.

Today the service will not be religious, with communion for majority and separate prayers for the others; but rather a communal gathering with everyone one gathered to do the same thing.

For today's service is a memorial.

And Blaine doesn't quite know how to react.

* * *

><p>So the first thing he does that morning, upon waking up, is ring Kurt. Hoping he can just talk to the answer machine as he has done for the past half week. He needs that release.<p>

But it doesn't come.

He types in the number, already memorised and planted firmly at the forefront of his mind, and presses dial.

And it rings.

And it rings.

And it rings.

When all of a sudden...

'The number you have dialled has been disconnected...please try again.'

And Blaine starts to cry.

* * *

><p>'The number you have dialled has been disconnected...please try again.'<p>

* * *

><p>'The number you have dialled has been disconnected...please try again.'<p>

* * *

><p>'The number you have dialled has been disconnected...'<p>

* * *

><p>'...Please try again...'<p>

* * *

><p>TBC...<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: If people still wish for me to write an alternate ending, then i will do so if there is enough demand.**

**I hope you enjoyed this, the final chapter is coming soon.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: It's my fanfiction anniversary! (a few days back but never mind) 1 year on this charming site...wow, how time flies. I feel like I should be eating a celebratory cake or something...but we don't have any, or the ingredients to make one...hmm...I shall make pancakes, with smiley faces on them made of Nutella...that sounds good, doesn't it.**

**Also, Kurt CoBlaine episode was perfect...shower...:P**

**But, back to the point. Ahem...We have come to the end of this fic.**

**There is a song...It is the one that the congregation in the chapel sing...i would say listen to this before you read, so you know what you would be hearing in the background...but the choice is up to you (_Do it_ cough ..i mean what?)**

**Backwardsmuffin[.]tumblr[.]com /post/ 20729680059/ thechapelsong**

**Anyway, here is the final chapter of 'The Chapel.' It has been an emotional journey, I hope you guys have enjoyed it none the less. Thank you for reading.**

**Here we go...**

* * *

><p>After the disastrous incident with the phone. Blaine is completely lost.<p>

He wonders down to breakfast with absolute stillness. His moves are robotic and he just can't seem to engage with anyone.

No one really knows what to say to him. It's like when they all first found out about Kurt's...accident. People just froze, a fair few cried, but the majority were just silent. As if their bodies were unwilling to accept that this had happened.

Because really, who wants to accept that a 17 year old has died?

Especially if he was your friend.

Which is exactly why everyone in he cafeteria goes stone silent when Blaine makes an appearance. Because they knew how close those two were, and so presumably his guilt will be infinitely worse than anyone elses. Blaine and Kurt weren't just friends; even though they were...they just _weren't. _They were KurtandBlaine, an inseparable team, best friends and just a little bit more. At least, everyone had thought so.

But now they didn't know what to think.

They just let Blaine float across towards his fellow boarding Warblers, and take a seat at their table. Not touching the food, but slowly sipping on a glass of water.

His hands tremble as he brings the glass to his lips. Small droplets of water splash out onto his face and dribble down his chin unattractively. But no one mentions it.

They just let the boy sit in silence, doing their best not to make things worse.

* * *

><p>Nick tried though.<p>

He tried to comfort his friend.

He slid his chair closer to Blaine's, and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, slowly rubbing the smallest of circles into the taught flesh, trying to calm and sooth.

But it didn't work.

Blaine just sat stock still and stared blankly ahead.

Again, nobody commented.

But still Nick tried. He slid yet closer, hooking on arm around Blaine's waist and pulling him gently across, so that his side was pressed to Nicks. Ever so slowly, Nick shifted his body so that Blaine's head was left resting on his shoulder. Nick brought his hand up and held Blaine's upper arm tight; keeping the boy pressed firmly to him, trying to display comfort and tell Blaine silently that he could rely on them. Hoping that maybe the boy would talk, and they could try and make him feel better.

But still he didn't move.

The glass of water was half drunk and abandoned on the table; peoples gaze continued to flicker between both it and Blaine, for no reason other than to avoid staring at the boy.

Nick sighed and ever so slightly shook his head. He twisted to a rather awkward angle and bent his neck around so he could whisper in Blaine's ear.

'Courage' he murmured, squeezing at the skin on Blaine's shoulder reassuringly, thinking that maybe Blaine just needed a little prompt, then he would react.

And react Blaine did.

Though this time by dissolving into tears and sprinting out the cafeteria; leaving the boarding boys silent once more and all watching the large wooden door as it came slamming shut.

* * *

><p>It took them 20 minutes to find him; curled up in the corner of the choir room, leaning on a small desk upon which a radio had sat as a duet was once song.<p>

He was sitting with his eyes closed, he knees pressed up to his chest, rocking back and forth; humming to himself ever so quietly, (though not to the tune of the duet) and occasionally whispering a tuneful lyric.

* * *

><p><em>Oh simple thing, where have you gone?<em>

* * *

><p>The boys who found him – Nick and Jeff – looked to each other with a sorrowful grimace, and headed over to the trembling boy, tapping him on the shoulder before hoisting him to his feet.<p>

Blaine gave a choked sob, and Jeff pulled the hair back off his face.

'Come on Blainers.' He said in a hushed tone as he tucked the sweat dampened curls behind the shorter boy's ear. 'Let's get you dressed up...we've got a service to attend.'

And Blaine did not once protest; instead, letting his mumbled song sooth away his worries.

* * *

><p><em>I'm getting old and I need something to rely on.<em>

* * *

><p>.<p>

**.**

**.**

* * *

><p>It takes them just under an hour to get ready. To put on their smartest uniform, freshly pressed slacks and ties, perfect blazers and hair. They help Blaine prepare to, trying to distract him as they hand him items of clothing. He just floats along with it, still humming to himself, lost in his own little fantasy world.<p>

They don't make him stop.

They just give him time, because pretty soon, once their in the Chapel, they're pretty sure he'll be crying once more; and they want to avoid that for as long as possible.

* * *

><p><em>So tell me when, you're gonna let me in<em>

* * *

><p>They head back downstairs, wonder down the corridors, joined by countless other boys spilling out of doorways, all on their way to the same place. All with the same fixed expression, and all looking like they'd rather be anywhere else.<p>

* * *

><p><em>I'm getting tired and i need somewhere to begin<em>

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

* * *

><p>Blaine sat in the pews, his feet resting on the wooden bar in front of him.<p>

He was sitting with the other sophomores, close to the centre of the Chapel. Nick sat to his left, chatting quietly to Jeff who was on his other side, stealing occasional looks at Blaine, whose vision remained straight ahead. Focused on the wooden altar at the front.

It was large but fairly simple. Constructed of simple wood, no fancy cherubs or crucifixs hanging across it, just the typical fabric hanging covering the top and draping off to each side. On the ground before it, stood a large photographic poster, placed in a block-like black frame. At the foot of the photo lay hundreds of flower. Roses, Chrysanthemums, Tulips, Daisies and the ones that caught Blaine's eye...forget-me-nots.

Mixed in between the flowers were dozens of tea candles; their flickering barely visible in the bright light sweeping in through the roof high windows.

Blaine's vision rose again to the photo, trapped in its frame. It wasn't the most wonderful of pictures; just the typical year book shot. Kurt clad in his blazer and tie, his hair pulled back off his face and coiffed upwards. His eyes were narrowed slightly as his cheeks rose in a smile and there was the barest hint of teeth visible through his lips as he grinned.

He was beautiful.

* * *

><p>Blaine's mind barely registers as they all stand for the headmaster. His full attention still on the image of Kurt.<p>

He doesn't hear any of the announcements. He misses the priests introduction and doesn't even notice that they skipped the traditional prayers. A small blurb on Kurt's life is read out and Blaine occasionally catches a word or two, but still keeps his attention on the photo.

He tunes in just a little as the teachers speak.

_'Such a charming boy.'_

_'A perfect student.'_

_'Beloved by his friends and peers.'_

_'A true gift to Dalton Academy.'_

And Blaine forgets the picture, just for a second, as he wonders why it is in death, everyone suddenly becomes perfect.

* * *

><p>A few of the boys go and stand at the front too. Wes goes on behalf of the Warblers, and Matthew Leek as Kurt's dorm supervisor and year prefect. They each read off pre-written speeches about how wonderful Kurt was, and whilst Blaine can't dispute anything they say, he can't help but feel that it is said far too falsely.<p>

Because really, did those two even know Kurt that well? Did they know all this drabble that they were spouting off, did they know it personally, with knowledge accquired from Kurt himself, or did they just ask around, looking for any information to bulk their spiel up? Because it doesn't sound heartfelt at all.

* * *

><p>The other boys clap at the end of each speech, nodding and murmuring in agreement at what was said. And Blaine feels a small bubble of some...unharnessed emotion ...coil up inside his chest as he glares around.<p>

How many of these people actually knew Kurt?

How many ever spoke to him, or knew his face?

How many had classes together and spent time with him?

How many had held his hand?

How many had sung with him?

How many knew his favourite colour, or food, or designer, or musician, or actor, or song?

How many knew his birthday or his eye colour or what he'd asked for for christmas when he was 3?

How many?

How many of these people actually fucking knew him?

And how many just sat there because it was the polite thing to do?

Blaine's not perfect, but at least he's not a fake.

.

.

Blaine lets the bubble of rage fill him up and overtake his body; his hands start to tremble and Nick panics, thinking he's about to cry, but in fact Blaine just wants to scream. To scream for the injustice and the wrong doings, and the self-gratified bastards that sit around him, only there so they wouldn't feel guilty the next day. None of them cared, none of them _truly_ cared.

And Blaine was still ignoring everyone else, still stuck inside his own head with just the picture, and the bright shine of Kurt's eyes and the beauty that was gone and the laugh that was lost and the people who didn't care and Blaine was going to scream, he was going to _Scream!_

_._

But then they start to sing.

And suddenly the scream died in his throat

It was a slow and gentle hymn, one that Wesley told the crowd that Kurt loved; and it was...this time, fairly true. Blaine had caught him humming it after one Wednesday chapel assembly. The gentle chords and harmonic melody soothed the ears and relaxed all...and Blaine could hear the faint memory of Kurt's humming accompanying the congregation in his ears.

And as they sung, Blaine was sure he heard the sound of sobs, coming from each and every corner of the room.

And now he didn't even want to scream.

No matter how faked the tears were, right now he didn't care.

Because he wanted to cry too.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Everything blurred together again; the end of the song, the final announcements, the thank yous and dedications, the funeral dates and the location of the school councillers office if anybody, _anybody _needed to talk.

Blaine missed it all, he only registered a light pat on the shoulder...and then the sounds stopped.

.

* * *

><p>Blaine stood and edged his way to the end of his row. The chapel was empty now. Everyone else had sifted out, some walking up and leaving more flowers by the altar, others placing small notes and messages,(to be collected by Burt during the day) while some just nodded in acknowledgment and left.<p>

Blaine couldn't though. He couldn't just leave, so he had waited and let everything wash over him until he could go up.

* * *

><p>He stepped into the aisle, his eyes fixing on the altar before him and the huge photo that sat in front. Blaine felt his heart begin to race. He took a few tentative steps ahead and kept his eyes focused straight ahead.<p>

It drew him in, the picture. They way Kurt's eyes stared straight at him, looking right through him, as if they knew all his little secrets. The aqua orbs judged him, but at the same time made him feel so safe and secure, like nothing else ever could.

He kept moving, getting ever closer, letting more and more finite details come into focus on the picture.

The way a lock of Kurt's hair hung down just to the side of his face. The way his lips were ever so slightly parted, as if he were sighing; the way his head was turned, so you could catch a miniscule glimpse of the scar on his neck, even a faint hint of stubble up by his ears.

Blaine got closer and closer; his heart sky rocketing out of his chest by then and his breathing shaky and uncontrollable.

Finally, he took three steps up and stood level with the altar. His feet surrounded by flowers and candles.

Then he broke eye contact with the photo.

He let his gaze fall to his feet, taking in all the little details that lay around him; the beautiful buds on the flowers, the small specks of pollen that had floated to the ground, the petals that had fallen alongside, lying on the chapel's stone floor, drying and slowly turning brown. Then the candles and their flickering light, casting elongated shadows on all sides of his feet, lighting up the plants and making them glow in all the colours of the rainbow and then the fluttering sheets of white scattered amongst them, each with a note to the lost boy.

* * *

><p>Blaine spun on the spot, absorbing everything, going around and around and around until he felt dizzy and disorientated. He slowly sunk to the ground, pushing several decorations out of his way as he went. Once down, he turned back to face the picture and slowly crossed his legs, picking up a single stem of forget-me-nots and holding them in his palm, tracing the edges of the petals across his opposite wrist.<p>

He took a deep breath in, and looked up at the photo, which was now at equal level to his face. Their eyes met, and Blaine felt a tear slip down his cheek.

_He's gone. This is it... He's gone._

Blaine pulls a faint smile and extends a shaking hand out to the image before him. His fingers hesitantly graze the frame, before pressing forward to initiate a solid contact. He runs his fingers down the side of the frame, feeling every groove and the slip of the varnish coating them; then toys at the bottom corner, his finger nails scraping at the small particles of dust and pollen collected there.

Slowly the pads of his finger begin to trail up the image; his index running along the piping of Kurt's blazer, whilst his thumb presses down whenever it skims over a button. His pinky is tracing the outline of Kurt's form, whilst the other two are dragged along for the ride.

Blaine feels another tear escape down his face.

He halts his progress once he gets to Kurt's skin. It seems too perfect, too perfect for Blaine to mar with his fumbling hands. It's not even like its real, but Blaine still feels like he will contaminate Kurt if he moves...but yet he can't help himself.

His fingers slide up the side of Kurt's neck instinctually , lingering ever so slightly on the small scar, then up towards his ears tracing the shell and lobe before they move on to his hair line. Blaine can almost imagine the silky smoothness below, can almost feel it, can almost ...almost...but then it's gone, disappearing as Blaine moves over, onto Kurt's cheeks, over the faint blush stain that Kurt always develops when photos are taken of him, as if he's trying to repress some faint camera-shyness behind his smile. Blaine feels yet more tears start to come, but he doesn't let them fall.

He moves up, across Kurt's lower lash line and into the curved corners of his eye, then up and towards the brow, whilst his gaze remains on those tiny little crinkles -just by the outside corner - that would always develop when Kurt smiled.

Blaine bites his lip as he moves across; tracing the same pattern around Kurt's other eye before moving down to his nose.

The soft pads of his finger tips run down the bridge of Kurt's nose, but halt once they reach the tip. He sucks in a breath and stares. The tip of that perfectly unique nose, that turned up in distaste at bad outfits and crinkled in delight at small jokes. That turned pink in the winter and had begun to develop freckles once the warm spring sun had emerged. Blaine tries to blink back tears, but his vision's becoming cloudier and cloudier and it's becoming difficult to see..

So Blaine stops, he lets his finger linger one last time before breaking the contact, pulling away and tilting his head down to the ground as his eyes flicker shut. The tears were free then. Salt water began to leak from his eyes, spilling down like waterfalls, coating his cheeks in the sticky residue. Large globules of free fall straight down, bypassing his flesh and carshing straight onto the fabric of his pants. Creating dark craters in the material that spread out like a stain. A deep sob broke from his lips as he gasped for a breath he didn't know he was holding. He momentarily clenched his fists, releasing his grip as soon as he felt the spring of forget-me-nots in his other hand start to break.

He dropped the plant to the ground, and laid his head in his hands. Cupping his cheeks and letting the tears gather in the crease between thumb and face. He held still for a moment, before rubbing at his eyes, letting another sob free as he did so, followed by a string of sniffing as if he was trying to pull everything he had just let out, right back in again.

He steadied and looked back up at the photo, his gaze falling on the final piece of Kurt that he had yet to touch, yet to feel and to remember to memorise.

Kurt's lips.

* * *

><p>The top on thin, the bottom full and plump; both a rosy pink with a faint reddish stain, as though Kurt had been eating strawberries on a summers day. They were curved at the edges, pulled into a perfect camera smile, with tiny, almost unnoticeable dimples playing at the tips.<p>

Blaine brought up a shaking hand and held it to his own lips, pressing a firm kiss the warm flesh, before extending it out and letting it hover, _right_ before Kurt's own.

But it didn't feel right. Blaine couldn't bring himself to move those final millimetres to press his fingers to Kurt's lips. He couldn't...he couldn't let it be like that.

Blaine pulled his fingers back, letting them float in the air by his chest before they fell down to his lap. Slowly, Blaine shifted closer to the picture, until he could see the last tendrils of his breath, steam up the image.

He shifted his weight slightly and moved his head forward, until the breath from his lips began to cloud over the photo. Blaine was so close he could count each eyelash, each freckle...His eyes traced over the image one last time, trying to capture everything to memory before he leant forward and pressed his forehead onto Kurt's.

He let it rest there for a moment, the cold feel of the image acting as a stark reminder of what he would never feel again. He inhaled slowly, the scent of flowers overwhelming him, though all the while he wished for coconut...for Kurt.

Was it bad that he knew what Kurt smelt of?

He titled his head again; this time letting his nose brush against the photo, in the form of an Eskimo kiss, the gentle brush of skin over the picture soothing Blaine's breaths and taming his heart.

But then it rocketed once more as he made the final move. He sucked in a breath and pressed a feather light kiss to Kurt's lips. His eye fluttering shut as he held perfectly still against the image.

He holds his mouth there for a minute or so, just being. He wants to deepen it, wants to feel the warm pressure of someone kissing back; wants to feel the gentle brush of tongues and the slide of saliva slicked lips cushioned together. He wants there to be someone on the end of this kiss, not just a cold image in a stark frame. He wants heat and breathe and pulse and life. He doesn't know why...he's never felt it before...but he wants it.

He wants Kurt.

Wants him so, _so _badly that he doesn't even have the thought capacity to wonder why.

He just _wants _him.

Wants, wants, wants, wants, _wants!_

But he can't, he can't have him.

He'll never have him.

He'll never even see him.

_This_ is his last hope.

* * *

><p><em>Oh simple thing, where have you gone?<em>

* * *

><p>Blaine releases a final rush of breathe against Kurt's still image before he pulls away. He watches as the pillow of steam he left on the frame, coils and shrinks away, until there is nothing more than a print of DNA showing that they ever even touched.<p>

He closes his eyes, then extends his arms to wrap around the poster frame; tipping the image so it falls flush into Blaine's chest. Blaine just holds it there, cradling it in his arms, clutching onto it like a life line, letting the memories of Kurt flicker before him.

Of a staircase and a song.

Of a coffee and comfort

Of a word and a bully.

Of a wedding and a transfer.

Of an audition and a bird.

Of a solo and a competition.

Of a duet and dance.

Of a store clerk and a crush

Of a confession...and a no.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Of an unrequited love... then heartbreak.

.

Of a building and a leap.

.

Of a picture...

And of a goodbye...

* * *

><p>And as Blaine holds the photo to his chest, crying against it and watching the tears dribble down the shot. As he wishes with all his heart that this wasn't real, the this was all a dream, that this was fanatasy and begs to some unknown deity for just a smidgen of time, just a chance to say goodbye...<p>

_I'll never say goodbye to you Kurt._

The truth is... he never did

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There we have it...the end...thank you so much for reading.**

**There will be an altarnate ending if people would like, I have the outlines for two different ones currently written out. **

**I hoped you liked my humble fic. I don't really know what else to say.**

**Please feel free to leave feedback, it is always appreciated. Also, if you have any prompts for other fics, then do leave those too. Inspiration is fantastic in all forms.**

**Thank you! ~Effy **


	8. Alternate Ending

**A/N: Thanks to Danicadaisy for recc'ing this on her fic-rec Tumblr. Love you gal!**

**Ok guys, you asked for it. Here is the alternate ending. It is set about 4 years after the Chapel finished, so Blaine would be in his second year of college – assuming he was a sophomore in season 2.**

**Anyway- I say this now. In my head, what happened in The Chapel, (we are pretending this is published as a separate fic jsyk) was actually what happened. I don't see it as ending another way. I see Kurt's suicide attempt as being successful and I see Blaine living with the guilt as his punishment, not him killing himself too. I know it's still pretty morbid, but that kind of thing happens. Not everyone can be saved.**

**However if you want this to be what happened, then please, be my guest.**

**On a lighter note, I hope you guys liked my humble fic. Now that this is over I shall try and get back to LIL and ATCF if my brain and study schedule allow. Keep reminding me to do so though, because I do actually forget. But I digress...**

**It has been great writing for you, and I hope to see you around.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>Blaine was slumped in his chair, his toes tapping out a gentle rhythm on the ground as his finger nails clicked nonsensical tunes on the desk. He was toying with a pen between his lips, slowly staining his tongue blue, and staring absentmindedly out the window, not paying attention to whatever was going on in class.<p>

College was boring.

Ok, maybe not all of it was boring. In fact he enjoyed the majority of his classes. They were interesting, the professors were pretty cool and the lecture halls made him feel smart; but this class...this was terrible. It was one of those he had been forced to take, just to fill space. Yes it was the best choice out of his options, but it was still dull. Right now he wanted to be back at his apartment, chilling with his roommate/boyfriend, watching trash TV and eating greasy take away pizza.

But no. Instead he was stuck in a high school-esque classroom, being forced to listen to their ditz of a teacher giving them their main assignment for a writing course, which he had absolutely no interest in taking.

* * *

><p>'Come on guys.' Ms Huntington said, holding her hand out with a hugely enthusiastic grin spread across her face. 'Put yourself out there. Make your story known. This piece is about more than just creativity, it's about how you can incorporate real life situations into your work. Any successful writer will tell you, that your characters and plots come from a place of experience.'<p>

'What about Harry Potter though miss?' Called out one of the boys at the back of the room, receiving a high 5 from the boy next to him shortly after.

'Even Harry Potter, Mr Adams' she replied with a smirk. 'Ms Rowling based many of her characters and their traits on people she knew and went to school with. Take away the magic from the book, and it is the story of an underdog, who has to face all kinds of adversity, without the support needed to truly succeed, but he overcomes that and defeats the odds, to prove himself to the community. He doesn't let his fame get to his head, and he lets himself work for his title- as the boy who lived, not just accepting peoples adoration of him, but actually trying to earn it. You could all learn a lot from story like that.'

The boys at the back of the room were silent for a while, glancing to each other with raised eyebrows.

'Now.' The teacher said. 'I have you assessment objective written out here.' She started to walk across the room with the papers in her hand. As she passed each desk, she gently laid a sheet down in front of the desks occupant. 'You will each have to write a short story, using yourself as one of the main characters. However, I want you to make yourself ...' she hesitated, thinking out her words. '_Give _yourself a different ending. Be the same person you are. Use real life experiences to add to your story, but give yourself an alternate ending. Don't end up where you are today. Show what could have been.'

Just as she finished, the high pitched shriek of the bell rang out from outside the door. The boys quickly jumped from their seats, gathering their books together and ramming them into bags whilst the girls took a more leisurely approach.

'You each have your sheets.' Ms Huntington called out, over the ruckus. 'I expect each piece to be ready in 4 weeks, so I can grade you, if it's late, you fail. No exceptions'

Blaine sighed and scooped up his sheet, following the crowds out the door and then heading off to his next class; scanning through his assessment objective as he walked.

* * *

><p>'<em>Use 4 real life events and at least 4 people from your past to construct a 'short' story (no less than 7,000 words.) You must use yourself as a main character, but you are not to end up as you are today.<em>

_No: Fantasy (magic, witches, dragons etc.)  
>Supernatural (ghosts, vampires, aliens etc)<br>or Science Fiction. (Interplanetary travel, spaceships etc.)_

_This task is to demonstrate how you can incorporate real life situations into your writing. The piece should be meaningful and heartfelt, as you know what the experiences your characters went through were like. But you are also being imaginative by giving yourself an alternate ending._

_Please include a short list of your RL occurrences with your piece when you hand it in. Points will be awarded for how you use the events and incorporate them into your piece, also how creatively you can work from them._

_You have one month._

_Good Luck._

_Ms Huntington.'_

* * *

><p>Blaine was struck with a bolt of lightning from the blue. He knew exactly what to write about; the point in his high school career that had defined him as a person. That changed him, and made him the person he was today.<p>

Kurt's video...

* * *

><p>A week later and he was deeply regretting that decision.<p>

He didn't really think this through.

Yes, the high school happenings were tragic, heartfelt, and all other kinds of crap that would make his teacher orgasm like crazy.

But he didn't really think about how this would affect him.

If the strings of tears, the hiding in his bed wrapped up in a comforter and the never ending supply of ice cream he had consumed was anything to go by...

Writing out his 'real life experiences' was not something he should be doing.

* * *

><p>It takes him 3 weeks, 5 days, and around 17 hours to finish his writing piece, since he was given the assignment.<p>

'_And that's how it will never end up.'_

His laptop has received more slaps and key slams than he would care to admit, and sticky tears have found their way into the electronics more than once.

'_The only noise to break the deathly silence, as two students lie crumpled on the ground'._

But it's done.

_'Please not Kurt.'_

Over.

_'Just bring him back.'_

Finished.

_'...Please try again...'_

He doesn't have to look back; God, he never wants to look back

* * *

><p>'<em>I'll never say goodbye to you Kurt.<em>

_The truth is... he never did'_

* * *

><p>He's finished.<p>

* * *

><p>He hands in his work the next day, just as he's leaving the classroom. He dumps it unceremoniously on the teachers desk, the breeze it creates sending other papers to the floor, but he doesn't care- he doesn't look back.<p>

* * *

><p>He's home.<p>

In his apartment.

Crying.

Again.

Why the fuck did people have to bring this up? Why did he bring it up? Why did he write about that, Why did he choose that, of _all _things? Stupid, _Stupid Idiot!_

* * *

><p>And now he's back in the class again.<p>

He handed in his writing last lesson, and the teacher is meant to have marked them. He's still a little nervous, baring his soul on paper like that. His past is messy, and while yes, his life today is not nearly as hectic and confusing as it once was, things still get to him, and this is a sensitive subject.

A very sensitive subject.

He only wrote out what happened back at Dalton because he thought it would get him a good mark. God, he cried at least 10 times whilst writing it, and he had hour long periods when his boyfriend would have to just hold him as he wept, said boyfriend often crying along with him at the tale.

But this...the _wait_ for his mark, was actually killing him. What if he was expected to read it out, or if he failed completely and would have to do it again? What if the teacher read it and hated him? What if she was judging him now on the jerk he was then? What if she would never look at him again, what if she was disgusted with him and despised his very presence? What if-

*brrrriiiIIINNNNGGG*

His thoughts are cut off as the bell goes. He flinches, and starts to get to his feet when-

'Mr Anderson.' The high voice of Ms Huntington calls out 'I'd like a word please.'

And Blaine feels his stomach flip.

* * *

><p>'I must say.' His teacher says, looking up at Blaine. '-that was a very, <em>very<em> heartfelt piece.'

The classroom is empty now and Blaine is sitting on a chair, pulled up next to the teacher's desk. Ms Huntington has a stack of marked papers in front of her, and Blaine can see his own name written across the one on top.

'I found it...very angst-ridden. Very tragic- you gave Kurt's fatal flaw good backing and his character had depth, which was very impressive. Also the depiction of yourself was interesting too. It was you, yet so very different at the same time. Good job.' She smiles up at him again.

'Though I do have a few questions.' Blaine swallows and his eyes go wide. 'Most of your classmates left me with lists of what their real life base was for this work. However, you didn't.'

Blaine swallows again.

'Now, now, there's no need to worry. A few others didn't as well, so I'll speak to them tomorrow. It's just...before I grade your work.' She clears her throat. 'Would you mind telling me which your real life people and events were?'

And Blaine freezes.

'Umm-' his voice trails off as his eyes dart around the room in a panic. His throat is dry, and he has the urge to swallow again but he can't. Oh God...He can't lie to her, because the whole point of this was actually to be realistic, but he really, _really, _doesn't want to actually admit how much is based on fact.

He sucks in a breath.

'I...I don't...it's rather, you see...'

His words are coming out as gibberish and his teacher is giving him a rather incredulous look.

'I...I...' He takes another deep breath and tries again. '...Kurt's real.' He says slowly. 'He...he umm, yes he's real... so err...So is Sebastian, and...and Rachel...and so was Jeremiah, as were most of the minor characters. It was set at my high school so...so yeah...I mean, people like the matron were imaginary...but ...yeah.'

'Good, that's good.' His teacher says, her pen scratching across a page of her notebook, eyes down. 'And your events?'

This is where Blaine struggles. His voice starts off low, still trying to work out a way to avoid the conversation.

'Umm...The err... I mean...' he sucks in a breath. _Breath Blaine. It's just words. Just say them and breath._ 'Kurt's bucket list was real.' He murmurs, avoiding eye contact with the teacher. 'So was the Jeremiah singing incident, and Rachel's party...and...and, so were most of the points that were crossed off the list...like the hair dye, you know?'

She nods, then looks up at him expectantly when he doesn't continue.

His throat runs dry and he sucks in a harsh breath, trying to slow his heart rate. He decides to just spit it out.

'And so was the tape.'

His teachers jaw falls momentarily before she snaps it back up. She blinks rapidly and glances back and forth between Blaine and the paper.

'Blaine.' She says quietly, as she watched the boy, who is now shaking. 'I'm sorry...'

'It's fine.' He says hurriedly, ' 's fine.'

'Are you-'

'I'm fine.' He says gently, not meeting her gaze. 'It's just...I try not to think about it. The me you read about... wasn't fictional. I was an asshole back then and what Kurt did was my fault, I mean I basically destroyed my best friend I-'

He trails off and sniffs, as if he were about to cry.

'I just...try to avoid thinking about it, that's all.'

'If...If you don't mid me asking.' Ms Huntington says after a momentary hesitation. 'Why did you write about it then?'

'Because' Blaine starts. 'It is something that I can really, truly feel. Every emotion there was real and...It was just something I could do. You asked for heartfelt, that was the most heartfelt thing I could produce, _because _it effects me so badly.'

He brings up his sleeve and wipes at the corner of his eye.

'Ok. I'll...umm, get It back to you soon.' his teacher says, a heavy awkwardness now hanging in the air. 'You certainly did write it very well. I'm proud of you.'

Blaine gives her a small smile, his eyes wide and shining.

'Now hurry on.' She says, returning the gesture. 'Tell your next teacher that I kept you late.'

'It's ok.' Blaine replies as he gets to his feet. 'I don't have any other classes today.'

Ms Huntington smiles again before saying softly. 'Then I suggest you head home.' She too, makes to stand up. 'Get some sleep, maybe watch some TV. This must have been rather emotionally exhausting to write. That much is clear, Just...take it easy Blaine.'

'Thanks' Blaine replies quietly, nodding to her in gratitude.

'I'll give you your grade next lesson. Ok? See you then.'

Blaine nods and scoops his bag up from the floor by his chair; before turning towards the door and quickly scurrying out.

* * *

><p>He does what she says and goes home.<p>

His apartment is only a short journey off campus is you take the subway.

Yeah, sure. It's not in the best location. But this is New York. Everything is expensive as hell in New York, and if he wanted to live a short walk from his university then he would be shelling out god knows how much a month, and he wasn't willing to do that.

As it was, he had only moved into his apartment a few months ago. He had been living in the dorms for his first year at college then for at least a semester and a half of his second. But then his boyfriend's roommate had moved out, so he had invited Blaine to come live with him.

Which of course, Blaine had readily accepted.

So now he is shaking off his loafers and dumping his keys in a dish by the door; shimmying his coat off as he goes and calling to see if anyone is home.

'Hey?' he calls out into the lounge cum dining area. 'You home Sweetie?'

'Over here.' Comes a voice from over by the couch.

Blaine smiles and ditches his bag by the dining table before walking over to the couch, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's hair; whilst said boyfriend lies spread eagle with a bag of Doritos perched on his crotch.

'What you up to?' Blaine asks, as his boyfriend slowly sits up, one arm snapping out to grab the chips before the fall.

'I had no classes today.' His boyfriend replies, smiling up at Blaine and holding out an arm to wrap around Blaine in a soft embrace. 'Thought I'd pig out for a while. I haven't had these in forever.' He says , gesturing to the Doritos. 'And I thought it was about time I indulged in some crappy student food.'

Blaine gives his boyfriend a half-hearted smile, and manoeuvres himself around the couch until he slumps down onto it, his head tilting down to lean against his boyfriends shoulder.

'Hey.' His boyfriend says softly, twisting his head to look at Blaine. 'Are you ok?'

Blaine shifts again and shakes his head, his voice muffled in the fabric of his boyfriend's shirt.

'Nnmm nnnt Rrwly.'

His boyfriend sighs and dumps the Doritos on the floor, moving to wrap Blaine fully in a hug.

'What's wrong honey?' he asks Blaine, who is currently trying not to cry.

'I...I...' Blaine shifts so he can actually be heard. His eyes are shining, reflecting the light gushing in from the window, and his cheeks are flushed. Slowly, a small, almost unnoticeable tear escapes down his cheek. It rolls down, leaving a glistening track in its wake, before it splashed down onto the soft material of his boyfriend's sweater.

'I handed in my creative writing piece.' He says quietly in between sniffs.

'Oh. Did you...not get a good mark or something?' his boyfriend asks, holding him close.

'No, not like that...it just...my piece...it...' he hesitates. 'It was the one about Dalton.' He finally says, after a moment or so. 'About what happened in Sophomore year, about the video...about...about everything, oh my god.'

In a split second, his boyfriend completely understands, and Blaine completely breaks down.

'Oh baby.' He coos, slowly rubbing comforting circles on Blaine's back. 'It's ok baby, it's ok.'

'But it's not.' Blaine says through his tears, his arms restricted to his sides as his boyfriend holds him. 'It's not...I was _such _an _asshole. _I...I was so mean and self centred and...and God...I was such an awful person, you don't even- And...and now, my teacher's gonna know. And she'll hate me, and tell everyone, and then everyone will know what a jerk I am and...' He breaks off, tears cascading down his face.

'Sweetie' his boyfriend says, slowly rocking Blaine back and forth, scootching closer until their bodies are pressed tightly together, warm radiating out around them. 'She won't hate you. I don't hate you, do I? And I know what happened. Everyone makes mistakes Blaine. Everyone. And yes...yours may have been worse than some, but God-there are so many that are worse than what you did. You were just a dumb teenager. And you did what most teenage boys would do...you thought with you dick.'

Blaine lets out a humourless laugh.

'You did and you know it.' The boy says, giving Blaine a playful nudge that is lost on his curly haired partner. 'But if you told the story that I know, then it will just seem like that. It will just be a stupid teenager, Blaine. She won't judge you. Every guy's thought with their dick, you just had bad timing.'

Again, Blaine snorts.

'But it's ok Honey.' His boyfriend continues. 'Because you're not like that anymore. You think and you reason and you are a better man because of it. You aren't _that_ person anymore, you aren't. You are a bigger, better, more mature and down to earth man. You know what you did wrong and you know you won't do it again. I won't let you.'

Blaine nuzzles his head into the crook of his boyfriend's neck. One hand snakes out and clutches at the fabric of the other boys sweater, rubbing it back and forth between his fingers as if he's afraid to let go.

'Depression changes a person Blaine. It's a disease. It's not your fault that someone gets it, and the way it affects someone is not your fault either. That tape, and the events around it...they _weren't your fault_. Yes, you could have behaved different. Maybe you triggered the events, maybe you didn't. We'll never really know. But you can't change the past, Blaine. You can just work on the future, and making it a better place, so the same things don't happen again.'

He presses a kiss to Blaine's temple, and the curly haired boy sniffs, blinking rapidly and working on stopping the tears.

'You, Blaine Anderson, are so much better now, You realised your mistakes and you changed; _God_, It may have taken a slap around the head and a friends suicide attempt to do so, but you've _changed _Blaine. You are _strong. _You help people. You have courage. And you give people courage. Remember that.'

Blaine blinks his eyes open and gives his boyfriend a soft smile.

'I don't know what I did to deserve you.' The curly haired boy says, shaking his head. 'I really don't.'

And his boyfriend smiles back.

'You were just you.' He says. 'You were just your _true _self. I fell in love with the boy I first met Blaine. The boy who held my hand, and ran with me down the corridor. The boy who sang to me, and was a complete gentleman. That's who I loved. But you changed after that – I don't know why, you could blame it on hormones or any number of things, but you still did. But you know what?'

Blaine's boyfriend smiles down at Blaine and gives him a little shake.

'You _changed back_. You are that boy- that man, once more. You stopped thinking about yourself and started thinking about others. You became the you that cared and helped and loved people. Who was always there. You changed Blaine, you cut the crap and changed back to the you that I fell in love with.'

Blaine's lips stretch into an impossible smile, and his eyes shine in the rooms artificial light.

'I love you Kurt.' Blaine says. 'I love you so God damn much you wouldn't believe.'

'I know sweetie.' Blaine's boyfriend says, as Blaine wipes his tears away. 'I know.'

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

* * *

><p>It was a very strange thing- the way Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson actually fell in love.<p>

Because it all starts in a very dark, very lonely place.

Kurt Hummel had severe depression. And I really do mean severe.

In 2011, after battling with his condition for several months, he tried to kill himself.

He had everything planned out. He knew how he would do it, he knew when, he knew where.

He left a note, well, a video, explaining why he did what he did, to give to his (ex) best friend, Blaine Anderson.

He was going to copy it on to a DVD and place it in said boy's room and then by the time he watched it, Kurt would be gone.

But for some reason, some reason that Kurt will _forever_ be thankful for. He didn't.

He didn't copy it to a disk, or wait at all. Instead, he emailed it to Blaine.

And that is what saved his life.

* * *

><p>Blaine Anderson was standing by the bar in Scandals night club, when his phone vibrated with a new message.<p>

He decided not to drink the shot next to him, in favour of checking said message.

What he saw completely changed his life.

It was a video.

He watched the first 20 seconds of the video before running out of the bar at light speed; leaving his date, and his drink behind.

* * *

><p>He rang the boy who sent him the message, rang his more times than he could count, and far from his surprise, the boy didn't answer.<p>

So in a fit of panic, he changed tactics. He dialled 5 different numbers consecutively; each belonging to a boy at his school, each boy being a boarder, and each boy actually answering.

And Blaine begged.

He begged each and every boy to run _as fast as they possibly could, _to find Kurt.

Because if they didn't it would be too late.

* * *

><p>And thank whatever deity there may be that he did.<p>

7 minutes after Blaine got off the phone with the last boy, they found Kurt.

They found him just in time.

He was outside the Chapel, looking up. Preparing to head up to the roof.

* * *

><p>By the time Blaine arrived back at Dalton, having forced his date Sebastian to take him back immediately, it was too late.<p>

Kurt had left. In fact he had been driven to the hospital after one of the boys who found him, noticed the cuts on his arms.

He didn't return to Dalton.

* * *

><p>For a month and a half, Kurt was in a psychiatric hospital, trying to treat his depression.<p>

For 15 months, he was in therapy.

And for the rest of his high school career he was back at McKinley.

* * *

><p>No one at McKinley spoke about what happened to him. <em>No one.<em>

They were to afraid to trigger him; but in many ways, Kurt was thankful that they didn't.

Instead, he let himself drown in the music. He spent his time in glee club, just rejoicing in the freedom the music gave him. It was his new escape, so he stopped cutting and with no boys to impress he stopped starving himself too.

And once the New Directions stopped being assholes, they accepted that that was what it was for him.

They never regained their close friendship they once had with Kurt. But they were definitely friends.

* * *

><p>Kurt graduates and goes to NYADA.<p>

A year later Blaine graduates and goes to NYU.

* * *

><p>It is on a cold Friday morning in December that they meet again.<p>

Blaine is standing in line at his favourite NY coffee shop, waiting to grab his evening drink before he heads home to get started on the whopping mound of work he has to do.

Kurt is waiting to collect his roommate Jenna from her shift at said coffee shop, so they can go shopping.

Blaine hears his name being called and steps forward to take his cup.

Kurt hears the name he hasn't heard in God knows how long and spins around.

He nearly faints.

But instead he squeaks out a high pitched 'Blaine?' to which the curly haired man turns too; and proceeds to drop his newly acquired coffee all over the floor.

* * *

><p>Funnily enough it is Blaine who makes the first move. His jaw drops and his eyes widen, and then he is flinging himself into Kurt's arms with enough force to nearly knock the other man to the ground. But Kurt is strong, strong and muscular (which Blaine can't help noticing as Kurt returns the hug) so he can support him.<p>

Kurt remains pretty quiet and just smiles at Blaine; who starts rambling like a mad man, asking all types of questions from 'what are you doing here?' to 'are you sure you aren't a dream.'

Kurt laughs and suggests they take a seat because everyone is staring. Blaine agrees and follows him to a table in the corner.

* * *

><p>They end up leaving the coffee shop 3 hours later. Kurt's roomie forgotten along with Blaine's homework.<p>

He flunks the next day's class because of it, but he really doesn't care.

He has seen Kurt, he met Kurt, he has Kurt's _number_ –God, the world could end and he'd still be freaking elated.

* * *

><p>It continues like that for the next few months. Meeting up in the coffee shop a couple of times a week, moving to what had quickly become their table and discussing the past few days events.<p>

Kurt says he forgives Blaine. His therapist told him not to pin the blame on people, because that only generated anger. Instead he had to just let it go, move on with his life. Not forget, but just...avoid dwelling. Besides that was the past, this is a bigger, brighter and far, far better future.

besides, this Blaine isn't the asshole Blaine he once knew. This Blaine is the Blaine he met on the staircase. This is the Blaine Kurt fell in love with.

Besides, if Blaine hadn't rung those people all those years ago, Kurt wouldn't be here today, so he can't _hate _him. (Though he doesn't mention that to the younger boy)

* * *

><p>It takes them 7 months before they become just that little bit more than friends.<p>

Blaine is, once again, the one to actually make the first move.

He asks Kurt out to see a Broadway show, the one week anniversary performance special of Wicked.

He's been saving up for the last month, just to be able to afford the best tickets he could.

Kurt accepts graciously, and they have a wonderful time. The performance is incredible, and Blaine even manages to subtly sneak an arm around Kurt after the intermission.

At the end of the night Blaine drops Kurt back at his apartment. His roommate is waiting inside for him, but Kurt ignores her peeking through the spy hole and presses a brief kiss to Blaine's lips as they stand on his door stop.

And Blaine is utterly blown away.

* * *

><p>3 weeks and 7 <em>date<em> dates later, they make it official – Boyfriends.

* * *

><p>After 5 and a half months of him and Blaine dating, Kurt roommate, Jenna, decides to move out. In fact, her boyfriend has invited her to move in with him; so Kurt sees it as perfectly fitting that he should do the same.<p>

Blaine agrees, and in the following week or so, he packs up his stuff, moves out of his college dorm, and finally lets his old roomie get some alone time with his girlfriend.

Blaine's official room is the one Jenna used to occupy, but more often than not he finds himself curled up in Kurt's bed, wrapped up in his boyfriends arms.

Neither boy really minds.

* * *

><p>What happened at Dalton is broached a couple of times. Kurt explains what happened after, and what he had been told by doctors and therapists, probably triggered his depression.<p>

Blaine feels more guilty than he could ever have previously imagined, despite Kurt assuring him that it _wasn't _his fault.

But Blaine disagrees. In fact, he makes sure he goes over just how stupid and pathetic everything he did to upset Kurt was. Often highlighting how terrible his brief relationship with Sebastian was.

They broke up less than a week after Kurt left – Sebastian having told Blaine to 'get a grip' because Kurt was only a 'lonely baby with abandonment issues who needed to suck it up and grow some balls.' Blaine had slapped him.

Sebastian had slapped him back.

They called it quits.

Blaine tells Kurt it was doomed from the start. Kurt finds himself silently agreeing.

* * *

><p>The events of the creative writing class happen after Kurt and Blaine have been together 6 and a half months.<p>

It doesn't break them.

They are stronger than that.

Both different men, both mature and ready to take on the world.

Besides, things like this happen. You have to face your demons, and hopefully come out on top.

And they do.

* * *

><p>3 and a half years after this, and they have both finished with university.<p>

They move, still together, to a slightly larger apartment in a slightly nicer area.

Kurt is working as a chorus member in a new show in one of the smaller theatres, though still on Broadway.

Blaine is looking for a job at a children's acting school as a choreographer.

After several interviews at numerous places, he is finally offered a job.

They are happy

* * *

><p>It is4 years later when Kurt makes the move and proposes.<p>

It's a quiet event. In Kurt's dressing room after one of his Broadway performances.( He's not the lead, close, but not. Though this time, he doesn't want to be. His voice isn't suited for that.)

He sticks to tradition; getting down on one knee and pulling out the ring box from his costume pocket.

Blaine gasps and starts to tremble, but finds himself laughing along with Kurt, when the older man admits he actually had the ring on him throughout the show.

He rambles on and on about how much they love each other, and how much they've been through and how much they can face. But nearing the end, Blaine shakes his head and cuts Kurt off with a grin and a kiss.

Blaine accepts. Of course he does, and they spend that evening locked in their apartment with the phones all turned off – celebrating another new beginning.

* * *

><p>They marry in May the following year. It's beautiful.<p>

* * *

><p>Another few years down the line and they start to notice the house seems a little quiet.<p>

Blaine suggests a cat; which Kurt agrees too. But still, Pierrepont Finch their new tabby kitten is somehow not enough.

They debate and debate, and eventually decide that they should go surrogate and have a baby.

* * *

><p>3 months later, and a lovely woman, by the name of Charlie, is currently carrying their child.<p>

Charlie is perfect for them.

She's fairly tall, around Kurt's height actually, slender and beautiful. Her skin has a permanent California tan and long black curls tumble down to just above her bust. They find her through an agency. She is a Cali resident, so they have to fly out to meet her, but they moment they see her in the flesh. They know she's the one.

She reminds them of Blaine; and so Kurt is chosen to be the biological father.

* * *

><p>9 months later, and little Oran Barnaby Hummel-Anderson enters the world.<p>

He has Blaine's hair and skin tone. Along with his quirky little smile. But he has Kurt's nose, and Kurt's eyes.

Nicknamed Obee, by family and friends alike, after he expresses an interest in Star-wars at the age of 3, he is the light of his parent's life.

* * *

><p>Cut forward through half a century of wonderous adventures and we come to the end.<p>

* * *

><p>Blaine is 86, Kurt is 87.<p>

Life is so different now.

Everything has changed. But it is so utterly amazing, no one even notices.

Kurt and Blaine are happy.

They have lived long, prosperous lives, and can truly say they are content.

They still reminisce about days long gone. They think about what if's and what could have been's; but they have no regrets.

Not even the Dalton incident.

Because that was what made them into the people they are today. That's what gave them the kick-start in life that they needed, to mature and change and become better people.

That may have been what tore them apart, but still, in some twisted way, it is what brought them together.

And they could never regret that.

* * *

><p>Things may be different now. They may be old. And they may be slowly but surely, leaving this life, but they still think back to those days in university.<p>

They still remember.

Blaine didn't think he deserved a second chance. Kurt gave him one.

* * *

><p>'<em>The moment I saw you in that coffee store, I knew you'd changed. I knew you weren't the boy you once were. But that just made me want to know you more. I fell <em>out_ of love with the boy you once were Blaine, long, long ago. But this you. This new you, who cares so,_ so_ much. This you, I will _never_ stop loving.'_

'_I'll never say goodbye to you Kurt.'_

'_You'll never have to.'_

* * *

><p><strong>The End.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ****Please do leave your thoughts/feelings. **

****Thank you for reading.****


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